A Queen's Command
by Mistressjessica1028
Summary: What would have happened if Sookie Stackhouse never met Bill Compton? What if the Queen of Louisiana had sent Eric Northman to procure Sookie? This story is rated M for language/violence/sexual content. E/S
1. I Left My Heart in San Francisco

_San Francisco, California – 1905 _

The Queen of California is one pissed off vampire! She has ruled the vampires of this state since it was a territory of Spain; though I know little else about her. The vampire population has grown as the humans have migrated westward; in San Francisco alone there are nearly one hundred vampires, something unheard of in the Old World. We vampires are extremely territorial; we do not want other's poaching in our area or creating disturbances that would attract the attention of the humans.

Unfortunately, that is exactly the problem facing the vampire community in San Francisco. The newspapers can do nothing but discuss the 'Jack the Ripper' type serial killer that has been plaguing the city for weeks. The murders have the authorities stumped, both due to the brutal nature of the crimes and the lack of connection between the victims other than their sex. Each victim has been a woman, fairly young and attractive, but no similar physical attributes between all the victims occur; the ethnicity of the women has varied as has the hair color, eye color, and body shape. The only common feature among the women is their profession: prostitute. As I said, the crimes are brutal; the bodies have been mutilated and are covered in blood, hence the Jack the Ripper comparisons. What the stupid humans fail to realize is that Jack the Ripper was a vampire as is the killer of these women.

The Queen of California has tried to find the vampire or vampires responsible for these attacks, but her search has found nothing. Either the Queen has seriously incompetent vampires in her retinue or the vampires are very skilled in covering their tracks. The Queen is not concerned about the loss of human life; humans are like rats, they multiply quickly and spread everywhere. What has the Queen concerned is that the news of these killings is spreading across the country, putting the very existence of vampires at risk. That is why the Queen has hired me.

My name is Eric Northman; I have been a vampire for nearly a thousand years. I was human during what has been referred to as the Viking Age and I am what would have been considered to known as a Viking. I was turned by my maker, Godric, after sustaining a mortal wound on a battlefield somewhere in England. Godric admired my skill on the battlefield and also my ability to lead my men. He offered me the opportunity to be a companion of death and I jumped at the chance. Not because I wanted to be death, but because I wanted to live. I rose a vampire and embraced my new existence with gusto; I never looked back, nor have I regretted what I am.

For five hundred years, Godric and I traveled across Europe, Asia, and Northern Africa. My maker taught me everything he knew, and I was his celebrated pupil. When I was around five hundred years dead, near the time of the Spanish Inquisition, Godric allowed me to forge my own path in this world. Using the many lessons from my maker, my skills as a warrior, and my vampire gifts, I pursued the most logical path for me: I became an enforcer. I am known as The Viking; ruthless, brutal, cold, calculating, and most importantly, lethal. I have forged a reputation that is feared by many; I am the best at what I do. I have worked for nearly all the kings and queens in Europe and most of Asia, amassing quite the fortune along the way. I am one of the elite vampire enforcers in the world; I fear no one though many fear me and with good reason.

I had traveled to the United States at the turn of the century. Having seen the political upheaval in Europe for the past two hundred years, Godric felt it was time for us to have safe houses in this rapidly progressing country. The political unrest and the tension lingering in several of the countries makes Europe a powder keg waiting to explode. Godric and I have been traveling throughout the country, securing residences in many areas and setting up escape routes if the necessity should ever arise. Godric has not lived to be over two thousand years old by being careless with his safety. My vampire sister Nora had moved to the United States prior to the War of Aggression; she sought to help free those humans enslaved by others merely because of the color of their skin. Even in death, Nora is still a humanitarian.

The summons from the Queen of California found me enjoying the variety of flavor that New York City had to offer; the Five Boroughs really did offer something for everyone. Just to hear her offer, California offered me half a million dollars in gold bars. Apparently the Gold Rush had been very good to her. I admit, her offer, and the amount of money I was paid just to travel to California, had me intrigued. Using the private railway car she had provided, I journeyed across America, enjoying the Queen's hospitality. She was doing everything possible to ensure I would take her job offer; she plied me with money, women, and blood. How could I refuse?

One week after departing from New York City, I find myself standing in front of the Queen's compound in the heart of San Francisco, one of the lavish mansions found on Nob Hill. Her neighbors are among the wealthiest and influential in the country. I find myself chuckling at the irony that a vampire hides in plain sight; I find myself liking America more and more. The people definitely have moxy.

A guard stands discreetly at the entrance to the Queen's compound waiting for me to state my purpose. "Eric Northman to see the Queen," I state quietly even though there is no one else on the street detected by my vampire senses. A second guard materializes quickly to escort me to the Queen's throne room without verifying that I am indeed who I say I am. I am baffled at this lack of security. No one has bothered to search me for weapons, not that I need any. I am instantly on high alert, looking for any signs of a trap. My eyes scan every inch of the path, noting all possible escape routes and weapons.

The guard stops outside a door, knocking twice before telling me to enter the room. I vamp into the room, leaning against the door so I can better assess my surroundings. The throne room is empty save for the Queen herself seated on a chaise lounge in the middle of the room. The Queen of California, Lucia de Santos, is a beautiful woman; thick sable-colored hair hangs down her back in natural waves. Her dark chocolate colored eyes, sparkling with humor, watch my every move as I slowly move forward. Her plump pink lips are curved in a smile, showing her sparkling white teeth. Her once caramel colored skin has the pallor that settles over all vampires; on her though, it just looks as if her tan is fading. However, the most striking thing about the Queen is that her voluptuous body is completely nude for my eyes to feast upon. She reclines against a large pillow on the chaise, the fingers from her one hand moving languidly up and down in the valley between her breasts. Her legs are slightly bent at the knees and spread open, revealing the wetness between her legs. My fangs drop down with a loud click and my cock hardens as I bow respectfully before the Queen.

"It is good to see you again Northman," she purrs seductively.

"Had I known you were the Queen, I would have come much sooner," I say giving her a wicked grin. My tongue sneaks out to stroke one of my fangs, which causes both of us to shudder in pleasure.

The double entendre is not lost on the Queen as she beckons me forward with a crook of her finger. Using vamp speed, I drop to my knees at the end of the chaise, grasping her legs so that she slides down the chaise, putting my face eye level with her damp pussy. She licks her lips hungrily before she grasps my hair with her hand. "Let's have our pleasure before business shall we? It has been much too long since I've had you between my legs Eric."

"How is it your people have found no traces of the vampires killing the prostitutes?" Several hours have passed and Lucia is finally ready to talk about the problem in her area. After fucking on every available surface in her throne room, we moved to her bedroom where she called in two of her pets to join us. After fucking and drinking from the humans, Lucia finally put on a robe, indicating that she was ready to talk business. It has been a pleasant surprise to find Lucia as the Queen of California. When I had set about on my own path, Spain was my first stop. I had encountered Lucia one evening in a tavern; she and I both had our eye on the same tavern wench. Instead of fighting over the wench, we shared her. Lucia had been one of the reasons my time in Spain had been so enjoyable.

Lucia rolls her eyes as she fills two glasses from a decanter of blood. "My people here are idiots. Most the vampires in this country are less than two hundred years old. The 'Land of Opportunity' called to those wanting an escape from the rigid structure in the Old World." She hands me one of the glasses as she resumes her position on the bed beside me.

"Is that what called you here?" I take a sip of my drink enjoying the flavor of the AB negative blood, finding myself curious as to what drew a vampire nearly as old as me to endure the harsh traveling conditions to live here, a land that seems filled with sunshine.

Lucia smiles faintly. "We are vampires Eric; it is not our sex that determines our strength, but our age. Despite that, it is still very much a man's world in the Old World. Here I am a Queen; there I was always subjected to a man's decisions. No offense, but fuck that," she snarls as her lips curl in disgust.

I shrug my shoulders. I have never understood the need of some to classify women as the weaker sex. During my human life, the women had to be just as tough as the men because they had to defend our homes and lands when we went raiding.

Finishing the rest of my drink, I set the cut crystal glass on the side table. There are a few hours left until dawn, but I want to get the lay of the land so to speak before going to ground. I begin dressing in my clothes, directing the conversation back to the reason I am here. "Do you have any idea where I should start my search?"

"The area closest to the docks is where the majority of the brothels are; that area has been hit the hardest. However, the latest murder occurred just a few blocks from here two nights ago. That particular brothel is more upscale, geared towards the 'gentlemen' of society," Lucia sneers. "The establishment is owned by a Pamela Swynford de Beaufort. Perhaps you will find some clues there. None of the other brothel owners or patrons remembers seeing anything."

"Will they still be open this time of night?" I stare in the mirror as my agile fingers work the silky white fabric into the fashionable cravat that is expected when one is dressed for an evening out. Honestly, there are nights I miss wearing nothing but furs.

Lucia slides out of the bed, her robe gaping open as she slithers slowly towards me. Her hands push mine out of the way so she can smooth down the offending piece of neckwear before buttoning my vest. Her hands slide along my chest as she nips along my neck and jaw. "Was I not enough to satisfy you this evening? Why not stay here for the day? We can spend the rest of the night getting reacquainted."

I grasp her hands firmly in mine, pulling her body flush to mine. As much as I would like nothing better than to fuck Lucia until the sun rises, something tells me that I need to begin this investigation tonight. The longer I delay, the less likely I will be able to find the parties responsible. We don't need a widespread panic to build among the humans.

Hoping to soften my refusal, I lean down to suck on the skin of her neck before working my way up to her ear which I nip with my blunt teeth. Even though I have known her for centuries, she is still a Queen and does have a certain amount of power over me. "I am sure we will have plenty of time to get reacquainted while I am in town. I will keep you informed of any developments I discover in regards to these murders."

I release Lucia and bend down to pick up my top hat. Looking in the mirror, I place the garment on my head at just the right angle. Lucia's eyes meet mine in the mirror, a vicious smile spreading across her lips. "May your search be a short one; happy hunting, Eric."

With a slight bow to the Queen, I vamp out of her room and the compound. Using my speed, I quickly make my way to the location of Miss de Beaufort's establishment. Lucia is right, this house of ill repute is more like a mistress' home rather than a brothel. No signs hang about to indicate it is a place of business rather than a home, nor does it scream of a den of iniquity. The exterior of the building is all brick; the windows are covered by thick drapes, not allowing even the hint of a silhouette to be seen in the lamp light. The only thing that would draw attention to the building would be the heavy foot traffic generated by all the gentlemen callers, but the owner of the establishment must have considered that, because there is a discreet entrance in the back of the house that leads from the yard of the house behind this one. Clever design; I find myself admiring the ingenuity of the owner.

During my perusal of the building, the front door opens to reveal a striking blonde woman stepping out into the night. Her face is shielded by the hat on her head, but even from this distance I can tell that she is beautiful. Her ash blonde hair hangs thick and heavy down her back revealing a slender face. It is too far away for me to see her eye color, but the features I can see on her face are lovely; high cheekbones, creamy pale skin, and some of the pinkest lips I have ever seen. Her body is just as intriguing as her face. The corset of her dress pushes her breasts up high and tight, cinching in her waist, and then flaring out to the gentle swell of her hips. The gown she wears is both fashionable and expensive. Could this be Miss Swynford de Beaufort?

Of course, I am not the only creature intrigued by her appearance. My senses have detected a human man a few houses down from her place of business that is watching her. I had noticed his presence before, but I had thought he was sleeping because he was so still. However once she came out of the house, his entire body sprang to attention. He follows the woman I believe to be Miss de Beaufort as she makes her way down the cobbled street. The heels of her shoes click against the stone. She turns her head to look behind her as she hears the sound of another pair of heels clicking against the street. The man is dressed as a gentleman should be but his clothing is ill-fitting. I trail behind them discreetly, waiting to see how this will play out.

Turning the corner, the man closes the distance between him and Miss de Beaufort. She swings around, standing her ground demanding to know what the man wants with her. He tries to flatter her, telling her how lovely she is. I cannot help but smile as she admits she is off the clock and to return tomorrow at eight when they reopen for business. Feisty, brave, and beautiful; I am intrigued by this woman. Not since meeting Nora have I been captivated by a human.

After saying her piece, the woman turns to resume her walk, but the disgusting human closes the distance between them. He pushes her against a lamp post, pulling out a switchblade, causing her to cry out. He taunts her by calling her a whore and saying he likes it when they struggle. Could this be our killer? All the evidence pointed to vampires, not a human.

Most women when faced with a dangerous situation would become hysterical, but not Pamela Swynford de Beaufort; her body freezes, her mouth closes as the words dry up in her throat, and a look of resignation crosses her face. She knows there is nothing she can do to stop her attacker; but I can.

Using my speed, I pull the attacker away from her, using my nail to slice his throat open. His blood splatters the front of her dress and my clothes, forming a puddle at my feet as he bleeds out. I hold up my hand to lick the blood from my fingers, satisfying the bloodlust that has risen up in me. My eyes glance towards Miss de Beaufort as I lick my finger clean. She leans against the lamp post, her face frozen in an expression of shock, but no words come from her. Most humans when confronted with a dead body begin screaming incessantly.

"You're not afraid," I state quietly.

"I'm no stranger to dead bodies." Her voice wavers slightly but her words are clear and calm. I find myself curious as to what circumstances have placed her in proximity to more than one dead body.

I pull a handkerchief from a pocket, wiping the blood from my hand. His blood tastes foul, somehow tainted by the cowardly deeds he has committed. I find I want no part of him inside me. As I clean my hand, I speak quickly, offering a warning to her. "The streets can be dangerous at this hour. A lady should be more careful"

"If I meet a lady, I'll let her know," she sasses.

I stop wiping my hand, letting a smile grace my face. She is a delightful creature, full of surprises. However, seeing the blood on her dress brings me back to the matter at hand. I apologize for ruining her dress, giving her more than enough money to have it laundered or replaced if she chooses. She thanks me for my assistance, trying to find out my name. I smirk at her before vamping off into the night, not giving her the information she desired. Don't worry my dear; you will be seeing me again.

The next evening, I find myself standing in the parlor of Miss Swynford de Beaufort's fine establishment. I once again chuckle as I notice the name of the establishment behind the bar: A Bird in a Gilded Cage. The irony is not lost on me. I believe all of the girls that work here are gathered for my perusal. Based on their reactions, I know many of them would not mind me being their customer for the night. Miss de Beaufort stands in front of her girls proudly with a smile on her lips, saying they have something to offer for everyone.

On any given night I would appreciate having such variety to satisfy all of my appetites. However there is only one woman I wish to see this evening and I tell her so.

Her smile falls and she looks uncomfortable with me for the first time. "A good merchant doesn't compete with her merchandise, Sir." She places emphasis on 'sir', using a single word to remind me that she knows there is more to me than what I seem.

I walk towards her, leaning down to whisper near her ear. "A good customer knows that everything has its price."

I can see the light of comprehension shining from her eyes as she understands what I am offering her. As I wait for her to make her decision, my head snaps to the side. The killers are here; I can sense that it is two vampires, one of whom I have had the misfortune of encountering before.

Grabbing Pamela's arm, I hustle her out of the drawing room, away from the prying eyes of her girls. "Keep everyone down here," I command before vamping up the stairs. I can hear Lorena's voice prompting the girl on what to say as another vampire feeds from her femoral artery. The girl has been heavily glamoured. Flinging open the door, I grab Lorena by the throat, holding her aloft; she looks like a doll dangling from a child's hand. My fangs are down in anger. I note that Pamela is standing in the doorway watching the scene in the bedroom with a wide-eyed expression, her stance rigid.

"Get your hands off of her!" The younger vampire has sprung to his feet, snarling his demand that I release the female vampire in my hand. I can tell that he is her progeny and that he is very young. Such a pity he shall pay for his maker's shortcomings.

"William, don't!" Lorena struggles against my hold as she tries to warn her progeny.

I fling Lorena into the wall as her prodigy snaps a wooden sconce from the wall, vamping towards me with the intentions of staking me. He is strong for one so young, but he is no match for me. I grab the wooden stake as he tries to drive the implement of death into my chest. He looks stunned that I am able to prevent him from staking me. I can tell he is using all of his strength to propel the stake forward, but it has not budged an inch even though I am only using one hand to defend myself. I count myself fortunate that I had a maker that clearly explained everything to me about being a vampire, because the baby vampire in front of me seems absolutely clueless.

I taunt the worthless female vampire before me. "Lorena you procreated." Her progeny tries to fight me, but it really is no contest. I cannot resist rubbing salt into the wounds. "He is protective . . . how sweet."

The young vampire growls out, "Who are you?"

"Eric Northman . . . but to you, the True Death." In the amount of time it takes to blink, I drive the stake into the maker and progeny that have preyed upon San Francisco, ending the threat to our very existence.


	2. Lead Us Not Into Temptation

_New Orleans – 2008_

"Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five, to see the Queen," I state to the security guard that has detained my vehicle at the entrance to the Queen's compound. The security guard says nothing as he calls to the main compound to confirm my appointment with Sophie-Anne Leclerq, the Queen of Louisiana. A second security guard walks the perimeter of my vehicle, checking for explosives or hidden weapons. Ah, how times have changed. My eyes glance to the rearview mirror where I can see the wrought iron metal fence that protects the entrance of the compound. Humans have gathered at the fence; some screaming their love for vampires, their desire to be bitten, or their desire to fuck one of us. Then there are the other humans that have also gathered; these are the humans that protest our existence, saying we are an abomination to their god, that we are in fact agents of the devil, and that we wish to destroy the human race. Idiots! I've walked this earth for over a thousand years; not once have I encountered any gods or devils. In fact, I know of some vampires that are older than this god they claim to worship. As for the devil, I have known humans just as evil and murderous as myself. I have killed thousands, but I can honestly say I have not killed for sport as I have seen some humans do. Those I have killed have been either by accident when I was a newly turned vampire or because it was necessary to protect the existence of myself and those I have sworn to protect.

"Sheriff, please accept our apologies for this delay. We have been forced to implement new security protocols."

"Trouble?" My eyes once again flick to the fence; if those humans really wanted to get in, that meager piece of metal will not keep them out. I have increased the security measures in all of my safe houses as well as those of my progeny Pamela. I wonder if I will need to add additional security measures to Fangtasia.

"I am not at liberty to say Sheriff. The Queen will see you now." With that the guard resumes his post in the gatehouse. I drive up the road leading to the main compound where I am directed by another vampire on where to park. After parking and cutting the engine, I exit my vehicle, pausing to button my suit jacket.

"So you've been demoted to the valet now?" I cannot resist saying to the vampire that is waiting for me on the steps.

"Fuck you Northman!" Rasul Amari, the head of the Queen's security team, growls out as I join him. Rasul is of Arabic descent; I believe he was made vampire around the time the Romans invaded Egypt. I have often wondered why one as old as him would be willing to serve our childish Queen. Though I am sure there are many that think the same of me.

Chuckling, I stand on the steps beside the exotic looking vampire. He and I nod heads in greeting before clasping our arms in solidarity. Rasul and I have been allies many times through the centuries; he is one of the few outside of my bloodline that I trust. "Hello old friend. Why the fuck have I been summoned? Don't tell me she is in need of more money." Honestly, the Queen is only a few centuries younger than I; she should have amassed a substantial fortune like the rest of us.

"In truth Brother, I do not know why you have been summoned. The Queen has become very secretive in the last few months; she rarely holds court anymore. She keeps herself sequestered in her private wing with her new pet. Andre has been handling all matters of state while she is indisposed."

"Indisposed? Is she injured?" My spies in the Queen's court have been lax in passing this information to me. I must rectify this matter before leaving the city. My allegiance may lie with the Queen of Louisiana, but I do not trust her. She only tolerates my presence in her state because I provide stability and my reputation prevents others from challenging her rule. I only tolerate her because she lets me do as I please in my area without any interference from her. This is the first time I will have seen Sophie-Anne since before the Great Revelation. When my presence has been required, I have always sent Pam in my place. Sophie-Anne much prefers Pam's company to my own; I have no time for the Queen's games and I have no wish to fuck her. Pam is willing to bend to the Queen's wishes because she knows Sophie-Anne will be more than happy to act as her submissive for the night. I have often found it humorous that the Queen of Louisiana, a position of power and prestige, enjoys being dominated in the bedroom. However, Pam is a little too free in sharing the details of her encounters with Sophie-Anne; the last encounter between the two of them had resulted in me using a maker's command to prevent Pam from ever telling me of her sexual encounters with Sophie-Anne again. There isn't enough brain bleach in the world to scrub that image from my mind.

"There was a small attack on the compound three months ago; a vehicle tried to ram the fence," Rasul says drawing my attention back to the matter we are discussing. "There have also been attempts to bomb the compound; boxes left along the perimeter, one even made its way inside the donors' quarters. Nothing has managed to reach the Queen. As you can see," he says gesturing with his hands to the surrounding area, "we have increased security measures around the compound." My eyes scan the area we stand in. In addition to the new gate and guardhouse, there are new security cameras angled to view all areas of the compound, Shifters and Weres are patrolling the grounds in their animal state, and my sensitive ears detect the faint humming of an electrical current.

"Why have the Sheriffs not been notified?" I am furious; if there have been threats against the Queen, the other Sheriffs and I should have been made aware. Our safety, as well as the safety of the state is seriously in jeopardy. Fucking cunt!

"I am sorry old friend," Rasul looks at me apologetically. "I have not been allowed to leave the compound in weeks. And all of our communications are being monitored. If you thought Sophie-Anne was bat shit crazy before than you haven't seen anything yet. Andre's paranoia makes Sophie-Anne look sane."

Fuck! "Take me to the Queen, Rasul! I need to know what the fuck is going on!"

"I am not going with you Viking. I only came out to brief you on the state of affairs. The Queen is in the pool house." Rasul and I clasp arms again before he vamps off. I need to find a way for us to communicate that will be untraceable to either of us. I shall have Thalia look into it when I return to Shreveport; she may hate everything to do with humans but she is a fucking genius when it comes to anything having to do with technology.

Hoping to conclude my business quickly, I vamp to the back of the compound where the pool house is located. Stopping outside, I smooth my clothes and hair as I stare in disgust at the overly tacky structure. The Queen's desire to be in the sun saw my taxes as sheriff jump from fifteen percent to twenty-five percent. Fucking childish bitch! I wish she would meet the sun and save all of us from her brand of idiocy.

The guards stationed by the door nod at me as I pass by. Entering the building quickly, I am on alert as the metallic scent of blood lingers in the air. My eyes scan the room, zeroing in on the sight of our esteemed Queen with her head buried between the legs of a mortal woman. The woman's head is thrown back while her hands grip the edges of the divan she sits on. She is moaning loudly as the Queen eats her out. From what I can tell, the human is a natural blonde and her figure is a bit on the fuller side, something that is rare among women these days. The girl's skirt is pushed up to her waist; her legs spread wide open with the Queen's arms resting on her thighs. Turning her head, the Queen winks at me before sinking her fangs in the girl's femoral artery; the girl shouts in ecstasy as her body shakes with her orgasm. Meanwhile, Sophie-Anne purrs and growls with satisfaction as she laps at the wound on the human's leg, her eyes staring at me the entire time. Fuck! I have no desire to bed the Queen, but I am not unaffected by the scene before me. My cock is painfully erect; I want to stroke myself as I watch them.

Just as I think about giving in to the urge to relieve myself, Sophie-Anne rises from between the girl's thighs. She slithers towards me with a pleased expression on her face. My pupils dilate as I see the single drop of blood along her chest, sliding its way between her breasts. The blood must be the girl's and it is the sweetest smell I have encountered in years. My fangs ache and I shift uncomfortably.

"Amazing isn't it?" Sophie-Anne knows exactly what she is doing as she wipes the blood from her chest with a single finger. She brings the finger towards her lips, a teasing smile on her face. Instead, she extends the digit to me with a smirk on her face. "Do you want a taste?" Sophie-Anne's eyes smolder as I grasp her hand, my tongue sliding out to lick the blood from her finger. The taste is just as sweet as the smell, and I find myself sucking the Queen's finger into my mouth. I want every last drop so I suck and nibble the skin until there is nothing left. Sophie-Anne moans and the scent of her arousal is thick in the air as I release her finger with a feral gaze. I want more! Darting forward, I lap at the blood residue on the Queen's chest. While I greedily search for every last trace of blood, Sophie-Anne's hand moves under her skirt, bringing her quickly to orgasm.

Sophie-Anne pushes me away from her body, a satisfied smirk on her face. Damn that woman! She is manipulating me with blood to get something from me. Her eyes drift south where my erection juts out painfully against the fabric of my suit. "Hadley," the Queen calls out, "on your knees darling. Sheriff Northman is in need of your talented mouth." Without any resistance or questions, the girl slides off the divan to her knees. Sophie-Anne guides me over to the couch, undoing my belt and pants so they fall to my feet. My cock springs free, pre-cum leaking from my swollen head. Sophie-Anne pushes me gently down onto the divan before walking behind me to press her body against my back. The girl she called Hadley moves quickly between my legs, her hot wet mouth eagerly descending on my cock. Talented mouth indeed; the girl can deep throat me without gagging.

"Just think Sheriff," Sophie-Anne purrs in my ear, "there is plenty more where this came from if you do what I ask. In fact, you could have a fairy of your own for your troubles."

My eyes snap open just as I start to release into the girl's mouth. What the fuck is Sophie-Anne playing at? A fairy? I pull the girl off me once I'm finished and quickly redress before pacing away from the Queen and her pet. "With all due respect Your Majesty, what are you talking about?"

Sophie-Anne sits on the divan I had just vacated, her pet at her feet. The Queen strokes the girl's hair as if she were a kitten in her lap. "What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential Sheriff." Nodding in understanding, the Queen continues. "Hadley here is part fairy. Andre was able to tell when he sampled her blood. We have been able to trace the fairy ability to Hadley's grandfather. Sadly, most of Hadley's family has died early deaths. There are only three living members of her family left . . . well, of her human family anyway. I have not been able to trace who her Fae family is."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"Hadley's family lives in your area Sheriff. I would like for you to claim them and protect them," Sophie-Anne looks at me as if I should have already put together what she wanted.

"Excuse me?"

The Queen rises from the divan, impatience shining through in her every movement. "What part of this do you not understand Northman? I want you to claim the human family as your own. I want Hadley's family protected. It's quite simple really."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but why don't you just claim the family yourself?" I do not do pets; I have not needed them in centuries. I have no desire to claim some redneck, white trash family as my own.

The Queen snaps, "Don't you think if it were that simple I would have already done it!" She returns to her seat on the divan, tension radiating from her body. Hadley, seeking to appease her master, moves next to Sophie-Anne, and begins rubbing tiny circles along the skin of her wrist. Sophie-Anne closes her eyes a moment and exhales loudly before opening her eyes to look at her pet. The expression on the Queen's face is shocking to me; she truly adores this tiny human girl.

Sophie-Anne leans her head against that of her pet before speaking in a calm manner. "Hadley is very precious to me Viking. She is to become my bonded and eventually my child. I will do anything to make her happy. And that includes seeing her remaining family members are protected. They live in the tiny town of Bon Temps; the house they live in has been in their family for several generations. The eldest living relative is her grandmother. Hadley has approached her about moving some place more comfortable, but the stubborn old woman won't budge. " The idea of living in something other than the finest luxury boggles the mind of the spoiled Queen.

"Then there are Hadley's two cousins: Jason and Sookie."

I interrupt the Queen. "Sookie? What the fuck is a Sookie?" It's worse than I fucking feared. Pam is going to have a field day with this.

The Queen's patience is at an end. In instant, I find myself on my back with the Queen's nails digging into my face; her face with her extended fangs hovering over my face. "You forget your place Sheriff. I am your Queen! You will do as I command. And I command you to claim the Stackhouse family as your own. If you do not, I will consider this an act of treason and sentence you to your True Death. Are we clear?" I snarl in fury as I realize there is nothing I can do. If I do not do as commanded, I will face the True Death; if I wish to ignore the command, than I will have to kill the Queen and become King of Louisiana, something I have no desire to do. I could try to run from the state, but there is no guarantee that Sophie-Anne would not have me followed. There is also the matter of all my businesses in the state that I would forfeit if I end up running. Fuck me!

Sophie-Anne pulls back from me, returning to the side of her human. I rise to my feet, fangs extended, feeling furious that I am stuck in an impossible situation. Sophie-Anne leans down to kiss the girl on the lips before speaking to me again. "I'll leave Hadley with you to discuss the details of her family. Need I remind you that Hadley is mine; if you harm her in any way it will mean your True Death!" The Queen glides to the ornate gold door, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. She calls over her shoulder before she leaves, "Always a pleasure to see you Sheriff." As if the guards know she is there, the doors are pulled open for her to walk through before being shut closed after her.

Silence descends between me and the part human girl left in the room. She does not seem to fear me, but she does not look entirely comfortable in my presence either. Stupid fucking bitch Queen! It would serve her right if I were to resign my post, take my progeny and all our businesses and leave this fucking backwoods bumfuck state. Let's see how long she would survive without me here to provide the money and protection she needs. I'd give it a month at the most.

"I am sorry," Hadley's voice states quietly from her place on the divan. "I never meant to cause anybody any trouble." She's looking down at her lap while her hands grip the edge of her seat nervously.

"Let's just get this over with shall we," I say with a resigned sigh. "The sooner you tell me what I need to know, the sooner I can get out of here."

Hadley raises her head, a small smile on her face. "I'm almost sorry I won't be around to see it."

I raise an eyebrow. "See what?"

Her smile widens. "See you butt heads with Sookie. She's as stubborn as they come." Hadley starts giggling which ends her ability to speak.

The events of tonight have me on edge; I need to find someone to feed and fuck, probably more than one given the rage and irritation that are coursing through me. I have no time for this human cow's girlish attitude. Moving to Hadley's side, I capture her eyes with mine, pushing my glamour into her mind. "Hadley, you will tell me everything I need to know about the Stackhouse family at once."

"That shit doesn't work on me Sheriff; I'm pretty sure it won't work on Sookie either."

"How is that possible?" Glamour has worked on every creature I have ever encountered during my time as a vampire. What exactly has the Queen gotten me into?

Hadley shrugs as she shifts on the divan to get more comfortable. "Maybe because we're Fae; I don't know. It's not like I had anyone I could ask. I don't know if it will work on Jason, but I think it would; he's pretty simple-minded. But Sookie, she's . . . different; has been her entire life."

"Different how?"

"You know, I asked Sophie-Anne if you could be the one to protect my family. I've heard a lot about you during my time here at court. You are well-respected and feared; Rasul said you are among the most honorable vampires he has ever met. So it is why I trust you with the knowledge that in addition to being part fairy, Sookie is also a telepath."

"Does the Queen know?" Hadley shakes her head no. "Why didn't you tell her?"

Hadley's shoulders slump and her expression turns to one of sadness. "I've done enough in my life to hurt Sookie; I couldn't betray her that way. She would suffocate if she had to live here or she would be driven mad. Her ability is something she has struggled with her entire life. I'd hate to see her used and abused for what she is."

"And what makes you think I won't do the same thing?"

"You wouldn't force Sookie to bond with you nor would you turn her against her wishes. If the Queen or worse, Andre, knew of Sookie's abilities, that's what her fate would be. As it is, Andre is less than thrilled that Sophie-Anne wouldn't give Sookie to him. But I convinced Sophie-Anne that Sookie needs to stay in Bon Temps for our Gran's sake. Gran is getting up there in years and she needs someone to help her. Sookie still lives with her; helps pay the bills, takes care of the house, runs errands, all the things that Gran is too stubborn to admit she shouldn't be doing anymore."

"And after your Gran passes?"

"Sookie deserves more than life in Bon Temps has to offer. Something tells me you'll be able to offer that to her."


	3. Digging Deep

"Pamela, contact our investigator; I need to know everything about the Stackhouse family in Bon Temps. There are only three living members: Adele, Jason, and Sookie." I had just returned to my home in the French Quarter after the most infuriating meeting with the Queen and then her pet. Rather than deal with the aggravation of driving my car through the crowded streets of New Orleans, I flew to my home. I'll pick up my car for my return trip to Shreveport, but for now, I needed the convenience and rush flying gives me. Flying has been something that I have enjoyed since the night I rose vampire. The rush of the wind against my skin and hair, floating amongst the stars, and having the world at my feet has always been something I've found peaceful. But not this night; the monster inside me is still threatening to crawl his way free.

"Where the fuck is Bon Temps? And what the fuck is a Sookie?" Pam sounds irritated; I'm in no mood for her attitude given everything I have had to deal with this evening. She needs to remember who the maker is and who the child is.

"Pamela," I say in a warning tone, "I am not in the mood for your bitchiness tonight. You will do as I have requested."

"Forgive me Master." Pam is instantly contrite as she realizes just how foul a mood I am in. "I will have the investigator being immediately. Do I need to arrange anything once these individuals are found?"

"Put Weres in place to watch the family once you have the addresses. I need to know exactly what the fuck I'm dealing with," I say with an exasperated sigh.

"Should I be on the lookout for an attack?"

"No, though we do need to discuss additional security measures based on my conversation with Rasul. The Stackhouse family is to be my newest pets." I wait for my progeny's reaction knowing she will think this is a joke. I wish it was an elaborate ruse that I am playing on her. I do need to get back at her for telling Ginger I'm infatuated with her and am considering her as my newest child.

Pam's laughter is long and loud through the connection; it lasts long enough for me to have the time to strip out of my suit and dress in my customary jeans, t-shirt, and boots. When I finally pick up the phone again, Pam's laughter has turned to quiet chuckles. "You almost had me there Eric. I'd have believed you if you said they were drainers or some other threat. But your newest pets? No way in hell I believe that."

"Do I sound like I'm joking Pamela?"

She pauses a moment, no doubt hearing the annoyance in my voice as well as feeling my fury and irritation in the bond. She gasps before sputtering out, "But you don't do pets? Why the fuck are you taking on not just one but three pets from the same family? Please tell me they are Coco Chanel, Giovanni Versace, and Grace Kelly reincarnate!"

"You have our esteemed Queen to thank for my new pets," I say with utter disdain. "She has commanded that I claim the surviving family members of her future bonded and child, Hadley."

"Why doesn't the Queen claim them herself?"

"I asked that same fucking question; all I encountered was hostility. I have no choice in this Pam." A resigned sigh escapes my lips as I think of how truly fucked this situation is. If something happens to one of these humans, I will have to answer to the Queen. That means I will need to know their whereabouts at all times. Fuck! Security details won't be enough; I will have to give them my blood. I don't care how good they smell or taste, it is ridiculous to think I will be gifting three unworthy humans with my blood. The only human ever to receive my blood has been my progeny. What will my maker say when he finds out? Godric believes the blood to be sacred . . .

"I am sorry Master. I will make all the necessary arrangements."

I end the call and slip my phone in my pocket. Slipping on my leather jacket, I leave my home and take off into the night sky. I need the endless buffet that Bourbon Street provides me to calm my nerves and squelch my thirst.

Two nights later, I am in my office at Fangtasia reviewing the information the investigator has left me regarding the Stackhouse family, meager as they are. The brother, Jason, has the most information about him. He was a local football hero that received a scholarship to LSU; however his football dreams went up in smoke when he was injured the third game of his sophomore year. Now he works for the parish road crew. His home and truck are paid off; he has a single credit card with a $500 balance. He's never been married, and he has no children that he knows of, which I find amazing considering how much of a ladies man he is reported to be. If the Stackhouse's really are part-fairy, he would have inherited the physical attributes that will make him attractive to those around him. The picture included of Jason Stackhouse shows a well-built man with dirty blond hair highlighted by constant exposure to the sun, eyes that seem to twinkle with mischief and full red lips curved in an easygoing smile. Pam, who has favored females for the last fifty years, had licked her lips in hunger upon seeing his picture; the only flaw she says he has his questionable fashion sense. A fan of plaid button down shirts she has never been; the 1990s were especially hard for her since it was the age of grunge.

Adele Stackhouse was next in the file. Adele Hale had married Earl Stackhouse in 1960 shortly after graduating high school. Their first child, Linda, had been born a year later with their second child, Corbett, born in 1964. Adele has no employment history to speak of; she's been a housewife and homemaker since she became Adele Stackhouse. Her husband, Earl, had been declared legally dead in 2000 after he had disappeared in 1991. There was no evidence to suspect foul play; the man had simply left for work one morning and never returned home. Adele Stackhouse existed on her husband's meager pension and Social Security. Her home was paid for and she had no credit history; she paid for everything in cash. The picture included in the file showed an elder woman in her seventies that still seemed to have a zest for life as indicated by the smile and sparkle in her eye. It is surprising to see one so positive about life when handed so many tragedies.

The last report in the file is the one that interests me the most: Sookie Stackhouse. The girl was a walking contradiction; she barely passed high school but she had graduated from the University of Phoenix with a near perfect GPA in English. Instead of putting her education and skills to use, she worked at a dive bar in Bon Temps owned by the Shifter, Sam Merlotte. I've had few dealings with Merlotte since he moved to my territory but I've never had cause to seek him out at his business. Pity; if I had I might have met the golden goddess shown in the picture wearing the short summer uniform Merlotte required of his waitresses. Her picture is another contradiction; she has a body made for sin, but her face and eyes are pure innocence. Merlotte's is the only place the girl has worked at; starting there when she was in high school and continuing still to this day. If she really has the ability her cousin claims she does, why hasn't she put it to use to get her out of that mosquito-infested wasteland she calls home?

My investigator could find no hidden skeletons, no hidden funds, nothing to indicate the Stackhouse's were something other than what the presented themselves to be: a low-level income family that worked hard for what they had and was well-liked by their peers. Well at least Mrs. Stackhouse was. The Weres that had been watching the family indicated that the people of Bon temps were respectful and kind to the matriarch. The opinion of the male Stackhouse varied from gushing lustful praise (the women) to envy (the men). The elder people in the community just shook their heads at his womanizing ways but admitted he was good to his family, hard-working, and loyal. The opinion of the youngest Stackhouse was not so favorable: sweet girl but considered odd by the townspeople. I believe the word the investigator stated was 'peculiar'.

The door to my office opens and Pam stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Are you going to spend all night reading that thing or are you going to come out here and entertain the vermin? They come here to see _you _Eric; they settle for the rest of us."

"In a minute Pam; I need to make a phone call."

She walks into the office, closing the door behind her as she moves beside my desk. "I already don't like these humans; they are already distracting you from your responsibilities. We have a business to run Eric," she reminds me pointedly.

"Pamela, I do not need for you to remind me of my responsibilities," I state coldly. "Our survival will always be my main concern, but I must treat this situation with great care. I fear the Queen is setting me up for failure. If something were to happen to one of these humans, I fear the consequences could result in our True Death."

"Over a fucking human?" Pam's voice and expression convey her shock and disbelief. We are vampire; we are superior to humans in every way.

"As I explained to you, they are the only living family members of the Queen's newest pet. Sophie-Anne is obsessed with Hadley; she plans to bond with her and eventually turn her. This obsession is a dangerous one, not just for us but for the entire state. Sophie-Anne is neglecting her responsibilities in order to be with her pet; if word of this were to get out, it would make us ripe for a takeover."

"It would serve the bitch right if she met the True Death because she lost herself in a fucking fairy vagina. So help me Eric, if you end up losing yourself because of a piece of fairy snatch, I'll stake you myself!"

Amused, I rise from my chair to stand before my child. Taking Pam's face in my hands, I press a loving kiss to her forehead. My child is the perfect vampire; beautiful, cunning, intelligent, loyal, and deadly. Keeping her face in my hands, I look down at her with a smirk on my face. "I love you better when you're cold and heartless." I know my progeny wants to be seen as an unfeeling bitch, but when it comes to me she is unable to control her emotions. She may look stoic but our bond sings with her happiness, pride, and love for me. I do not think I could have made a better choice than when I turned Pam.

"Now get your ass back on the floor," I tell my child as I step back. "I will be out as soon as I make this final call." Pam takes her leave and I return to my desk. Searching through my contacts, I dial the number of my lawyer.

The receptionist answers on the first ring. "Good evening, you have reached the office of Desmond Cataliades. How may I assist you?" Her voice is professional and succinct.

"This is Sheriff Eric Northman of Area Five. I need to speak with Mr. Cataliades in regards to three new contracts I need drafted."

"One moment please. I will see if he is available." The receptionist puts me on hold. Cataliades had better be available; I pay him good money to be available whenever I need him.

There is a click and the booming voice of the demon lawyer comes through the speaker. "Good evening Sheriff. How may I be of assistance to you this evening?"

I appreciate when someone gets straight to the point; not wasting my time with frivolities. "I will be designating three humans as my pets within the coming days. I need to have contracts drawn up validating my claim over the humans. I also want the contracts to explicitly outline what shall be expected from both sides. These documents need to be as air-tight as possible; there shall be no room for gray areas."

If Cataliades is surprised by my demands, he hides it well. "Very well. If you will give me the names of the humans, I shall begin drafting documents that will cement your claim to them. As for the expectations from both sides, please send me an email with your stipulations and I will add that to the document."

"Adele, Jason, and Sookie Stackhouse."

"I'm sorry Sheriff; I do not think I heard you correctly. Did you say Stackhouse?" For the first time in all the years I have known him, the demon lawyer sounds ruffled. That instantly has me on edge. What could the demon lawyer know about the Stackhouse family?

"Yes, I said Stackhouse. Is there a problem Cataliades?"

"I think it would be best if we spoke in person Sheriff Northman. Would it be possible to discuss this tomorrow evening?"

I agree; tomorrow is Monday and the bar will be closed. Usually I attend to Area Five matters, but hearing the unease in the lawyer's voice has me canceling all of my appointments for tomorrow. Anything urgent Pam will handle, though I doubt there will be. My area runs like a well-oiled machine; the majority of area business consists of paperwork. Those that reside in my area are here because I am a fair overseer with few rules. However, that does not mean I am lax in enforcing my duties; I am quite ruthless with those that cross me.

My conversation with the lawyer ends shortly after establishing the time and location for our meeting. With nothing else to delay me from entering my bar, I leave my office with a curse and vamp to my throne. As soon as I sit down, the desperate humans in my bar begin vying for my attention and it is sickening.

For my daytime rest, I chose to stay in my home closest to Fangtasia. I was not scheduled to meet with Cataliades until ten, but I did not want to waste time traveling to the bar. I woke at my normal time before sunset and used the time to check email and the daily reports from my various enterprises. My parent cooperation, Norra Mark Industries, is looking to diversify its interests with online businesses. Social media has become a billion dollar industry and I want a piece of the pie. If he wasn't protected by Lucia, I would glamour that Zuckerberg kid to make Facebook public!

Before I leave my house, I drain several bags of blood. I do not know how long this meeting will last, and something tells me I will need every bit of strength this night. I had considered calling Godric with my worries, but I didn't. I may be a thousand year old vampire but I still value my maker's opinion, and I know that his opinion of this situation will not be favorable.

Taking to the sky, it only takes a few minutes for me to land on the roof of Fangtasia where I used the rooftop entrance to enter my building. I know I am early, but I want to have every advantage that I possibly can over this meeting. I walk down the stairs to the main floor of the bar, heading towards my office.

"Viking, will you tell me why you are trying to claim my great-grandchildren as your pets?"


	4. It's Just Business

Niall Brigant, Prince of the Sky Fae, stands in my office looking as regal as I remember. His back is perfectly straight with his shoulders back, his chin is raised in a slightly challenging manner, and his hands folded elegantly over the end of his walking stick. It does not escape my notice that the ends of the stick are covered in what looks to be silver. I have known the Fae prince for centuries, but I cannot begin to guess his age; if he were human, I would think him to be in his forties or fifties. His closely cropped hair is completely silver colored, but it does not make him look old; he looks distinguished. There are few lines on his face to mark the passage of time; those he does have are mainly concentrated in the corners of his eyes. The expertly tailored navy suit fits his body like a glove, a body that looks as fit and trim as my own. The color of his suit darkens his eyes to nearly obsidian. His tie and pocket square coordinate together perfectly which would please my progeny's delicate fashion sensibilities. There is no mistaking the sense of royalty and power that surrounds Niall. People like Sophie-Anne think that just because they have a title it makes them royal; but there is something that separates Niall from everyone else. He does not flaunt his position, but you can tell by looking at him and the way he presents himself that he is above you.

"Perhaps you did not hear me," he says softly, a sign that his patience is wearing thin. "I will ask you again Viking. What business do you have with my great-grandchildren?"

Well fuck me! I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. Who do I choose to piss off in this situation; the Queen to whom I've sworn my allegiance to despite my better judgment or the leader of an entire race of supernatural beings that has been my ally on occasion since the 1500s? I know I can defeat Sophie-Anne in a fight; I'm not sure who would come out the victor if I were to face off against Brigant.

"I have been ordered by my Queen to claim the Stackhouse family as my pets," I say briskly. There is no point trying to hide it; Cataliades obviously informed the prince of the contracts I requested. So much for attorney/client privilege. What relationship does the demon lawyer have with the Fae prince? I know Cataliades offers his services to all supernatural species, but I've never known him to favor one species over another, not even his own. Perhaps it is because the royal family of the Fae is involved. But how did Cataliades know the Stackhouses were related to Brigant?

"I see," Niall says evenly. "How does the vampire queen now about my family?"

"The Queen's child, Andre, tasted faint traces of the Fae essence in Sophie-Anne's newest pet, Hadley."

Niall closes his eyes and exhales heavily. He opens his eyes to reveal a mixture of sorrow and regret. He begins speaking with a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "Hadley always was a wild child, never content to remain at home. She always wanted more; excitement and adventure are like a drug to her." The prince's eyes flicker over to me, resuming his impassive demeanor. "What else does Sophie-Anne know?"

My eyebrow arches involuntarily as I realize he is fishing for information; Niall is aware that at least one of his great-grandchildren has supernatural abilities. He needs to know everything the childish queen knows in order to begin damage control. I wonder how far he is willing to go to protect his family.

"All Sophie-Anne and Andre know is that Hadley and her family are descendants of the Fae though it is quite muted in their blood. They do not know Hadley is related to you." Niall breathes a sigh of relief before I continue. "The Queen plans to bond with Hadley and eventually turn her," I warn him.

"She made her choice," he says regretfully. He begins pacing the space in agitation. "Before Hadley left her family, I had tasked another of my subjects to warn her of the pitfalls that awaited her because of her Fae heritage. She was not, however, told whom she was related to; it was believed she could not be trusted with that information. Hadley disregarded the warnings and chose to go to New Orleans. She sought employment at a well-known vampire establishment!" He turns on me with an incredulous expression on his face. "Why should I help her when she has courted death at every turn?" Niall may have said he washed his hands of his errant great-grandchild but I can see the pain in his eyes. I know if it were my family, whether human or vampire, I would do everything within my power to save them.

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly before replying. "That is your decision. But it may interest you that Hadley neglected to inform the Queen of her family's," I pause for effect before continuing, "'extra' abilities." My eyebrows rise as I wait for Niall to process my words.

I do not have long to wait, and I think I have an answer to who would win in a fight between me and Niall. In a move that even I couldn't track with my enhanced eyesight, he has me pinned to the wall with his walking stick pressed tightly against my throat. Trying to bring my hands up to defend myself, I snarl in anger as I realize I cannot move. What fucking magic is this?!

"How do you like my extra abilities vampire? Do you still think you have a chance of beating me in battle?" He laughs harshly as I struggle in earnest against the magic pinning me to the wall. "You won't break my hold over you."

"Are you telepathic too?" I cease my struggles and remain passive against the wall. I have no wish to meet my True Death this night, so I force my fangs back into my gums. My human father said a true warrior knows when to fight and when to walk away. Godric also believed in this lesson; as a young vampire I learned not to run recklessly into battle. He advocated using my intellect; it may cost me the initial battle but I would ultimately win the war. It was a fortune cookie that said it best; he who knows to walk away shall live to fight another day. In the 1970s, Pam and I returned to San Francisco her pet at the time lived in Chinatown; those fucking cheap cookies were always lying around the girl's apartment.

"That would be me," Desmond Cataliades speaks for the first time during this meeting. The demon lawyer has remained seated on my couch with his right ankle resting on his left knee. Only he didn't speak out loud...

_Yes, I can read your thoughts as well as send mine to you._

"Well that's a clever party trick," I say drolly. "It is no wonder your practice is so successful."

"It does make things easier in the courtroom," Cataliades says with a smile. "To answer your earlier question, the Fae are not telepathic usually. Telepathy is a demon trait; nearly all demons have the ability. Miss Stackhouse has the ability because I gifted it to her when she was a small child. This was my gift to her as I am her godfather." The demon rises from his position on the leather couch and walks towards us genially. "Your Highness, I do not believe the Northman means harm to Sookie. From his thoughts I can tell he is more than a little reluctant to claim the family."

Niall drops the walking stick from its resting place against my throat. He takes several steps backwards before releasing me from his power. My body sags against the wall momentarily as it takes me a second to reclaim control.

I move towards the refrigerator in my office and grab two bags of blood, draining them without bothering to heat them up. Once I feel like myself again, I turn to face my unwanted guest. "What would you have me do Your Highness? If I do not claim them, the Queen will have me convicted of treason and sentenced to the True Death. If Sophie-Anne claims them herself, they will more than likely be forced to move to New Orleans where they will either be the playthings of one of her children or end up in the donor pool at the mercy of every vampire that comes to the Queen's compound. You could claim them through the Supernatural Council; that would make them off-limits."

"And it would open them up to threats from my enemies that would seek to use them against me," Niall replies quietly. "Believe me Viking, I have thought of claiming them many times since their grandfather, my son Fintan, was murdered by my enemies. But I cannot risk it."

"So what would you have me do?" I am open to any and all ideas that will resolve this situation to Brigant's satisfaction and will keep me from meeting the True Death. Though I prefer none of the solutions involve me.

Cataliades offers his input. "I think you should proceed as you intended Sheriff. Place the Stackhouse family under contract as your pets; the paperwork will be verified by the Queen and then filed with the Supernatural Council. Who would be foolish enough to cross you? Your reputation is well known throughout the supernatural community. And if your reputation isn't enough of a deterrent, then that of the Gaul is."

As much as I hate it, Cataliades is right. Godric and I are a formidable combination; there has only been one vampire that has survived when facing off against my maker and me. The only reason Appius Livius Ocella survived is because he started a fire that damn near burned down all of fucking London! I have spent centuries looking for him but he vanished from the world after World War II. Godric thinks he may have met the True Death, but I do not. I think he has hidden away somewhere and is waiting for the perfect time to strike again. Ocella will meet his True Death at my hands; my honor and vengeance demand it.

"Very well," I say with a heavy sigh. "Draw up the paperwork Mr. Cataliades." The demon lawyer nods his head and pulls the paperwork from his briefcase and leaves it on my desk. I have to admire the demon for being thorough; I'm sure he was prepared for many different situations that could have resulted this night.

"You have my gratitude Viking," the prince says to me quietly. "I will aid you in any way I can."

"As will I," Cataliades vows with a nod of his head.

I nod my head in appreciation to both men. "I need to make contact with the family, explain the situation to them. Would either of you like to be present?"

The lawyer speaks first. "I will need to be present to notarize the contracts when they are signed." I let him know that I will call his secretary to make the appointment after I have discussed the situation with the Stackhouses.

"Your Highness?"

Niall shakes his head no. "They have never met me. The children think their grandfather was Earl Stackhouse, Adele's human husband. They do not know that Fintan was the father of Adele's two children; her human husband could not have children. Corbett and Linda never showed any Fae tendencies other than being highly attractive. However, all of Fintan's grandchildren have showed Fae tendencies. All three children are attractive; Hadley and Jason have never lacked for companionship. Hadley is empathic; she is highly suggestive to the moods and emotions of those around her. Jason I believe is the opposite of Hadley; he can influence the feelings of those around him. Sookie is different . . . she is an exceptionally beautiful girl but her telepathy has been both a blessing and a curse for her. If you expose her ability to others, she will never be safe; she will always be hunted. I won't have her live that way; I'll take her to the Fae realm before I let that happen," Niall says darkly.

"If there is need for her ability, I will do everything in my power to ensure she remains undetected," I vow solemnly. "In truth, I have no wish to be involved with the family directly. I will do all that is necessary to mark them as mine, including giving them my blood on occasion and arranging their protection with the local packs, but I prefer to let them live their own lives."

Niall and Mr. Cataliades are both satisfied with my answer and leave me alone shortly after. I sit in my office to contemplate the situation I find myself in. Not since my early years as a vampire have I felt the need to keep pets. Back then, pets were a necessity to ensure one's survival since the human population was nowhere near as large as it is today. With the Great Revelation and the opening of Fangtasia, I haven't needed to actively search for a meal. So why should I keep pets in the traditional sense? I swear I will do all that is necessary to ensure their safety. But to be honest, they live in a town I've never even heard of and I've lived in this area many years! What could possibly happen to them?

The next evening, I land outside of Merlotte's Bar and Grill. I wrinkle my nose in disgust; the smell of shifter permeates everything around here. Sam Merlotte isn't exactly friendly with my kind...in fact, he hates all vampires. However, the few times I have called on his services he has been quick to comply even if his attitude has left much to be desired. The Shifter has no allegiance with any of the local packs, he prefers to remain alone. I wonder why he has chosen to isolate himself from the supernatural world, and that is exactly what he has done by settling in this backwoods town. My eyes flicker to the building itself. Inside there are dozens of humans, drinking themselves into a stupor or clogging their arteries with overly fried and greasy food. Again, I cannot help but think Brigant is overly worried about his great-grandchildren. The worst thing that will happen to them in this town is obesity followed by a massive coronary.

Through the open blinds I am able to catch my first glimpse of Sookie Stackhouse. I must admit, the picture my investigator included did not do her justice. Even from this distance, there seems to be a glow around her; it is as if she is lit from within. None of the fairies I know glow. Is she something more than Fae? Wouldn't Brigant have mentioned if she was something more? Her light blonde hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail that swings back and forth as she works briskly. My eyes move over her body hungrily. She isn't stick thin like most women today; she has curves in all the right places. My cock and fangs both ache with the desire to sink inside her. Fuck, this isn't supposed to happen! I had assured Brigant that this would merely be a business arrangement between me and the Stackhouse family. Something tells me he wouldn't be pleased to know that I wanted to fuck his great-granddaughter.

Angry with myself, I stride purposefully to the entrance, keeping it firmly in mind that this is nothing more than a business arrangement.


	5. Can We Talk?

I walk through the doors of the Shifter's bar and it is as if time stops for all inside. Everyone stops to stare at me and I can't help smirking in response. The women stare at me hungrily while the men stare at me enviously; they all either want to be me or they want to be with me. My eyes scan the interior looking for the Stackhouse girl, but I do not see her. I do however see the Shifter; he is tense behind the bar, wondering why I am there. It is none of his business why I am here; I do not have to clear my plans with him. One of the waitresses comes rushing towards me, fluffing her hair as she swings her hips. I recognize her as one of the fangbangers from Fangtasia; she had just offered herself to me a few days ago. Given the vapid, pathetic humans in the bar, she was the best of what was available. She wasn't the worst I've had, but she wasn't the best either; I know without a shadow of a doubt that I'm the best she'll ever have.

The brunette stops ridiculously close to me, her breasts brushing my chest with every heaving breath she takes. Desperation is not a turn on, but I guess they don't teach that at "How to be a Whore" ettiquette school. "Hey handsome," she says in what she thinks is her most seductive voice. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure? Where you hoping to enjoy some of the local flavor here at Merlotte's?" She asks her question while sliding one of her fake red fingernails down her throat. I wish I had brought Pam with me; it would have been entertaining to listen to Pam's digs towards this pathetic bloodbag. A human would have to be something truly extraordinary or have the most exotic blood in order for me to favor them with my attentions a second time or to come looking for them specifically; the trash in front of me has none of these qualities.

Deciding I don't want to waste my time here a minute longer than I have to, I catch the brunette's gaze and begin my glamour of her. "I have no interest in you this evening and you will leave me alone," I speak quickly and quietly so the others do not hear. Before releasing her from my glamour, I take a step back so she is no longer in my personal space. Once my hold over her is gone she asks me if I would like a booth or a table. I tell her I want a booth in Miss Stackhouse's section. The brunette makes a face but escorts me to a booth along the wall furthest away from the gawking patrons. Once I am seated it is as if someone hits the play button on the DVD player because everybody resumes what they were doing before my arrival. Or they try to anyway. A group of men resume their game around the pool table, the patrons at the tables continue eating what is supposed to pass for food, and the waitresses continue to move among their customers. There is one woman, though I am being generous in calling her that, watching me suspiciously. She looks like Jabba the Hutt with the make-up of Tammy Faye Baker. I flash my fangs and she scurries out of her chair, dragging one of the men that had been playing pool with her. Chuckling to myself, I continue to sit for a few minutes waiting for Miss Stackhouse to appear. I wonder if she is this inattentive of all her customers; it's a wonder she makes anything in tips.

"What are you doing here this evening Sheriff?" The Shifter has left his position behind the bar to come over and speak with me. He is standing uncomfortably beside my booth, maintaining what he considers to be a safe distance. Many of the patrons are trying to watch us covertly, but they are not trained in the art of subtlety.

"My business is not with you this evening," I say dismissively. My lips curl in a sly grin before continuing. "Why don't you run along and go mark your territory somewhere else?" I know the Shifter has an affinity for changing into a Border collie; someone obviously watched one too many episodes of Lassie as a child. It amuses me to tease Weres and Shifters about their otherness since they are still in the dark as it were.

His hands curl into tight fists by his sides and his body shakes with tension. He demands again, "Why are you here?"

The smile drops from my face and I lean towards him slightly. My voice is soft but that does not diminish the harshness of tone. "My business is not with you Shifter. You would do well to remember that I do not answer to you. Now, be a good boy and find my waitress." The Shifter stomps off towards the kitchen, barking orders at his staff to get back to work.

A few more minutes pass before a breathless, bubbly female voice breaks into my thoughts. "I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get to you! I was out back on my break and no one told me you were here. Welcome to Merlotte's; my name is Sookie. What can I getcha?"

My eyes are drawn to the woman beside my booth. She is a tiny one; I am easily a foot taller than her. The thin white t-shirt clings tightly to the curves of her breasts which are rising and falling rapidly, as if she had run in to get to my table. My eyes drift down to the black shorts which emphasize the golden color of her shapely legs and hug the firm globes of her buttocks. And her scent . . . even over the stench of stale beer and grease I can smell the honey and sunlight wafting off her skin. My fangs and cock throb again seeing her up close; she is quite mouth-watering.

Miss Stackhouse shifts nervously on her feet and has a tight smile on her face. My perusal of her body has made her uncomfortable; I know several ways to ease her tension...focus Northman! This is a business arrangement, nothing more! I know Sophie-Anne won't care if I feed and fuck from her pet's family, but I don't think Brigant will be as tolerant. The last thing I need is for him to claim a blood offense.

My eyes finally meet hers; her eyes are troubled and the color reminds me of sapphires. Her lips move into a tight, uncomfortable smile as my silence continues. "If you need more time, I can come back." She shifts uncomfortably on her feet again, looking ready to flee. I need to stop staring at her like a perverted asshole or else she will run away.

"Do you have any of that synthetic blood?" Not that I have any desire to drink it; True Blood tastes worse than pig's blood poisoned with silver and left to rot for a week. I wouldn't know what that tastes like but I did use it to torture a vampire once; I feel nostalgic thinking about the good old days. When a vampire could be true to his nature and didn't have to act like a pussy because of social media backlash. Pam wants me to be trending because the fangbangers want to fuck me, not because I went on a homicidal rampage in Bumfuck, Louisiana.

The tightness of her smile eases and she looks apologetic as she replies. "Um, no I'm so sorry we don't. Sam bought some years ago when y'all revealed yourselves, but it went bad." She bites her lower lip and it takes every ounce of control for me not to growl. I want to bite that lip; I want to know what she tastes like, see if she feels as soft as she looks. She steps forward and whispers, "You're our first vampire." I'll be her first and last vampire if I have any say about it.

Wait, what the fuck was that? Where the hell did that come from? Shaking my head to rid myself of these thoughts, I turn my focus back to her. "Just bring me something alcoholic to drink." I don't care what it is, but if I don't order something I'm sure the Shifter will try to bounce me from his bar…hmmm, maybe I won't order anything after all. I could use a good brawl to clear my head.

She cocks her head to the side reminding me of the Chihuahua Pam insisted on buying after seeing that ridiculous movie about a blonde college girl that ended up going to Harvard Law School. She thought the Chihuahua in her purse was the latest fashion accessory. However, Pam's fascination with the dog didn't last once he started chewing on a pair of pumps. She was going to punt the dog across a field like a football, but I made her glamour one of the waitresses at Fangtasia to take care of the dog. I couldn't fault the dog for doing something in its nature, just as I wouldn't fault a newly risen vampire for not knowing how to control their impulses. "I thought y'all only drank blood," she says to me.

I can't help the smirk that settles on my face as my eyes moving hungrily over her body. "Oh there a few other fluids I enjoy drinking."

The smile drops from her face as her hands curl into fists. She places her hands on her hips and retorts angrily, "I'm not gonna listen to any nasty talk. I am a lady and deserve to be treated as such!" She stomps off towards the bar, I'm assuming to get me a beverage. Her reaction is interesting; I've had women pretend to be angry with my advances but usually it is part of the cat and mouse game we play that ends up with us fucking. Something tells me that Miss Stackhouse's reaction is not an act; she is truly offended by what I said. My eyes drift to where she is leaning against the bar, talking in hushed whispers with the Shifter and another woman behind the bar. They are talking quietly so as not to draw attention, but my vampire hearing allows me to know that the Shifter is questioning her; he wants to know why I'm here. The two behind the bar both caution Miss Stackhouse to avoid me, but she waves them off, saying she'll be fine and can handle me. I have something she can handle...

The Shifter passes her what looks to be a beer and she storms over to my table with it. For all her agitation, she sets the beer gently on my table. "Do you need anything else?" Professionalism outweighs her irritation with me and I find myself admiring her spirit.

"Please," I gesture towards the vacant bench across from me, trying to appear pleasant with a small smile on my face. "Sit. I would like to talk to you."

She shakes her head no at me. "Thanks but I'm working; I'm not allowed to sit with the customers. Besides I have other customers I need to take care of." She tries to move away but I have a hold of her wrist before she can turn her head to look away. I do not wish to hurt her, merely keep her from walking away. The Shifter moves from behind the bar and a few of the men stand up from their chairs seeing me holding her wrist.

"Sook?" A man that I recognize as Miss Stackhouse's brother comes up beside her, his expression angry and his hands curled into fists by his side. I have to give him credit for being willing to defend his family, even if it would be a foolish endeavor in this case. "Is this asshole botherin' ya?"

"Northman, get your hands off my waitress and get outta my bar!" The Shifter stands on the other side of Miss Stackhouse, his face mottled with anger, his pupils glowing slightly as he tries to fight the need to shift.

"Wait! Northman? Are you Eric Northman?" Miss Stackhouse's expression changes from hostile to confused, though the tension in her body seems to increase hearing my name.

"Yes, I am Eric Northman."

Her eyes flick down to her wrist then back to my face. I nod at her silent request and release her from my grasp. She turns to pacify her brother and the others in the bar by saying it is all a misunderstanding, nothing to be concerned about. Her brother shrugs his shoulders and asks her to bring him and his friends another pitcher when she gets a chance. The Shifter is harder to defuse, but he ends up stomping back to his office and slamming the door. He's either calling for back up or looking for a stake. As long as he is no longer interfering with my attempts to speak with Miss Stackhouse, I don't give a fuck where he goes. She gestures that she needs a minute and checks on her other tables. If I doubted her telepathy before, I do not now. Even the most skilled of waitresses is not able to fulfill all their customers' requests without being asked; she brings refills, condiments, and checks all without being asked. If this is how she wants to use her telepathy, I will hire her at Fangtasia; she'd make a killing.

Once it appears that there is a lull among her tables, Miss Stackhouse fills a glass of water and comes to sit down in the vacant half of my booth. "You mind tellin' me why you've been havin' my family followed for over a week?"

"What makes you think that?" I thought I had made it clear that everyone was to maintain their distance from the Stackhouse family; no one was supposed to make contact. Heads are going to roll when I find out who fucked up my orders.

Her poker face is nearly as good as mine, because I cannot get a single clue as to what she is feeling. Most humans would fidget out of nerves or fear; a human's smell also changes based on the emotions they are feeling, the more negative the emotion, the more pungent the odor gets. But I'm getting nothing from Miss Stackhouse; it's like dealing with a vampire. "I may be blonde but I'm not stupid," she says derisively. "You've had people followin' me, my brother, and my Gran. Why?"

Looking around the bar, I see that we are still the focus of some of the patrons remaining as well as the waitress I previously fucked. The Shifter has resumed his post behind the bar, staring at me with open hostility. This is not something I want to discuss in front of others. "It's a private matter. Can we discuss this later?"

She nods her head in understanding and takes a long drink of her water. "Bar closes at 2; I should be done shortly after."

I nod and rise from my seat. I pull my wallet out and drop a $50 on the table. "I'll see you at 2," and vamp out the door.


	6. Monsters in the Dark

In the hours between leaving the Shifter's bar and 2:00 am, I decide to do some reconnaissance of my own on the Stackhouse family. Other than the Shifter and my soon-to-be-pets, there were no Supes in the bar. Where are the Weres supposed to be watching the Stackhouses? Someone's ass will be mine if they think they can get away with slacking on the job. I am about to take off into the night sky for the Stackhouse home when the fresh scent of Were hits me from the woods surrounding the Shifter's bar. Tray Dawson, a Were that has no affiliations with any of the local packs, steps out of the woods and waits for me to join him.

"Evenin' Sheriff," he addresses me as he pulls a cigarette from a pack. He drops the pack of cigarettes in the chest pocket of his denim vest then pulls out a silver Zippo lighter. The orange flame flares in the night sky as he brings the small fire to the tip of his cigarette, inhaling deeply as the stench of tobacco fills the air. I've always liked working with Dawson over the other Weres in my area. His no-nonsense approach is something I appreciate and he doesn't let any prejudices get in the way of him doing his job. To Dawson, money's money; it doesn't matter who's paying him in the end. That isn't to say he lacks a moral code; he just marches to the beat of his own drum. When Pam contacted him about watching the Stackhouse girl, he made it clear to Pam that he was only going to watch her; he wouldn't be involved in anything that would harm her unless she attempted to harm him first. It's not the first time I've had Dawson make stipulations when it comes to the jobs I offer him; in fact, it makes me respect him more for not just accepting without asking any questions.

"She knows you're watching her. You were supposed to stay inconspicuous," I say harshly.

Dawson takes a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling slowly. "It's kinda hard to stay inconspicuous when she seems to always know where I am. At her home, I'd shift into a wolf to watch her from the woods that surround the house. Whenever she'd be outside, she'd always turn her head and stares at the spot where I'd watch her from. A few times, she came into the woods to see if someone was watching her. As for when she's working, I hung out in the bar a few nights; the Shifter's a problem though. After the third time I came in, he cornered me, wanting to know why I was in his bar. I lied, telling him I got into a fight with some Weres over at Howl at the Moon and was trying to lay low. I don't know if he bought my story or not," he says with a shrug. "Since then, I've been watching her from out here."

"How far away were you when you watch her at your house?" Her ability is fascinating! Never once did it occur to me that she would have a range when it comes to reading people's minds. For some reason, I envisioned her ability only worked over short distances or would need her to be touching the person to know their thoughts. Gods, the possibilities for using her gift are limitless!

Dawson shrugs again. "Over a hundred feet or so; I was close enough I could keep an eye on her but not so close that I thought she could see me. Like I said, she knew where I was every time though. How'd she do that?" I do not answer his question and the silence stretches between us.

"She's not entirely human is she?" Though it is posed as a question, it is more of a statement from the Were. Before I can respond he asks me another question. "What are you planning to do with the girl?"

"The girl is none of your concern," I tell him in a cold voice.

"Normally I would agree with you," he says with the cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes one more long drag before dropping it on the ground, smothering the lit end with his boot. "That girl is probably the most decent human being I've ever met. She's kind to everyone even though most of the people in this backwoods town treat her like the gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. I've seen her work 10 to 12 hour shifts just to go home and help her grandmother around the house. She's certainly not materialistic," he says pointing towards a rusted yellow piece of shit that is supposed to pass for a car. I make a note to replace that as soon as possible; I'm not going through all the hassle of protecting her just for her to die in a car accident with a mosquito because she drives a rusted tin can of a car. Tray's last words bring my focus back to the conversation. "Sookie Stackhouse is a good woman Sheriff; not the typical woman who hangs around with vampires. What could you possibly want with her?"

"It's complicated," I answer the Were honestly. "I will need a team to set up a security detail for the entire Stackhouse family. Would you be interested?"

"As long as it's for the girl or her grandmama," Dawson shrugs his acceptance of the position I'm offering him. "No way in hell do I want to guard the male Stackhouse though," he declares firmly.

"Why is that?" Is there something I need to be aware of that the investigator missed?

"He doesn't have the sense that God gave a rock. And I think he spends more time between a woman's legs than you do Sheriff."

I can't help the chuckle that escapes my lips. I admit that I do have a very healthy appetite when it comes to sex, but my exploits lately have been exaggerated by the fangbangers. The pathetic sample of humanity that comes to Fangtasia lost its appeal quickly; I feed and fuck out of necessity and to relieve boredom. It's been several months, years perhaps, since I've had a sexual partner that I legitimately desired. An erection is nothing but a mental or physical stimulation that triggers the penile blood vessels to relax allowing for blood to flow freely into the penis which is then trapped within both _corpora cavernosa_. Ejaculation is nothing more than a man reaching a critical level of excitement. However, to actually desire someone or something involves some type of emotional attachment; there would have to be feelings of excitement, longing, need, or in some cases, love. The women and the men I've fucked in the recent past have been interchangeable; nothing distinguishes one from the other.

"I think that can be arranged Dawson. Who's supposed to be watching the brother tonight? I don't sense anyone else around."

"Herveaux," he says with a chuckle. "I sent him to get us food since neither one of us wanted to deal with Merlotte. The Shifter was frothing at the mouth the one day Herveaux had lunch in that shithole he calls a business. Apparently Merlotte thinks he has some claim over Miss Stackhouse. He warned Alcide to stay away from her."

"Leave the Shifter to me. He'll learn not to interfere with my pet or I'll put him down," I declare in a business-like tone.

Dawson looks incredulous. "Your pet?" Fuck! I wasn't going to admit that. I might grudgingly respect Dawson, but he's still a Were. They are notorious fucking gossips. I give it twenty-four hours before every Were in Area Five knows that I'm taking a pet.

My mulish expression is all the confirmation he needs. Instead of peppering me with more questions, the cagey Were quietly chuckles. Seeing my perplexed expression, his chuckles become guffaws. His humor has him bending at the waist, his hands resting on his knees as he tries to get himself under control. What the fuck is so funny? Dawson finally stands upright, wiping at the tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. The humor is clear in his voice as he takes in my annoyed expression. "Miss Stackhouse is your pet? Little Miss Sunshine and the Big Bad Vampire Sherriff of Area Five; I can't wait to fuckin' see this!"

After my frustrating conversation with Dawson, I run to the address that is the home of the Stackhouse women. I do not like that the house is so isolated; it is too vulnerable to an attack. If something were to happen out here, it would be days before anyone would notice. Standing in the woods, I can tell the structure is old and in need of repair but it is meticulously maintained. The grounds are recently trimmed and someone with a green thumb and eye for color tends the flower beds that line the house. An older model sedan sits in the parking area around the back of the house. No lights, save for the flickering of a television, are on. Looking through the window, I see the matriarch of the Stackhouse family resting in her bed. She wears a long white cotton nightgown and her grey and white hair hangs limply around her shoulders. Even from this distance I can tell she appears relaxed as she watches a show on The History Channel. The shit they pass off as history on that channel is laughable; I understand that history is written by the victor, but most of the stories on that channel are just as fictional as the complete works of Shakespeare.

There is nothing to be gained from staying at the old farmhouse, so I fly back to Merlotte's. Landing near Dawson, I relieve him for the evening, no sense in both of us watching the Stackhouse girl. Alcide Herveaux is also with Dawson. Herveaux and I have a strained relationship at best. He blames vamps for the gambling debt his father has amassed. The elder Herveaux is banned from all gambling halls in the state with the exceptions of the Creole Queen and the Warrior, two casinos owned by my maker and me. The only reason he hasn't been banned from there is so he doesn't seek out less reputable gaming establishments that could get him and his family killed. Of course, the younger Herveaux thinks it is so his family will be indebted to me indefinitely. If I wanted to be a complete dick about it, I could call in the markers and bankrupt not only their construction business but the daughter's salon too. But where's the value in that? It's not like I need the money.

"Do I get to go home too?" Hostility radiates off every inch of the younger Were. No wonder the father has racked up so much debt. If his poker face is as shitty as his son's, a blind man would be able to see it.

"Where's the male Stackhouse?"

As if he heard we were talking about him, Jason Stackhouse comes out of the bar with his arm around a homely girl. I would have thought him more discerning, only willing to sleep with attractive women. Then again, given what I saw inside the bar, there weren't many options. Looking more closely at the girl, I recognize her from Fangtasia. She's a fangbanger; she'll fuck any vampire that will have her. She's offered herself to me on more than one occasion but I've never been that desperate.

Inclining my head towards the couple that are currently pawing at each other against the side of a black pickup truck with flames painted on the sides, I address the sullen Were. "I think you have your answer Herveaux. Make sure someone watches him throughout the night. The girl he's with is a fangbanger." Maybe another vampire sent her here to acquire fresh blood and a willing fuck. I'm not willing to take the chance, so the wolf can just run off with his tail between his legs to sulk.

"Fine," he growls before stomping off towards his truck.

I can't help but chuckle at the young Were's irritation. However my humor is short-lived because Dawson is staring at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Do ya mind if I stick around and watch the fireworks show?"

"Go home Dawson!"

He gives me a jaunty salute before strolling towards his motorcycle parked not too far from where we stand. He gives me a mock salute after the motor roars to life and he peels out of the parking lot leaving me to my solitude. There are still a few hours left until Miss Stackhouse will be free to meet with me. Thankfully, I have cell reception in this shithole, so I'm able to get access to my email. There are a few new messages but nothing important. I begin drafting an email to my day person, Bobby Burnham; he is a total sycophant but he is willing to do damn near anything I ask of him. I know that he thinks being associated with me elevates his status in life, but it just makes him more of a pompous asshole because of his superior than thou attitude. Bobby is in desperate need of a reality check; perhaps I'll let Pam have some fun with him. My fingers fly over the keys of my iPhone as I type my email.

_Bobby,_

_Here is your latest set of tasks:_

_Contact the car dealership where I purchased my Corvette. I want to buy two new vehicles: a Tahoe and a sedan of some type, something for an elderly woman. Use your brain; do not be a fucking idiot. These vehicles will be for two human women. Again, do not be a fucking idiot when you pick the color of the car. Better yet, let me know what color options they have available and I will pick out the color._

_I need three phones added to my cell phone plan for Sookie, Jason, and Adele Stackhouse. For Sookie and Jason, iPhones will work. For Adele, find a phone with the largest screen possible. Also buy all the necessary accessories. Don't be fucking cheap; it's not your money you're spending. _

_Contact Alcide Herveaux. Have him come out to the Stackhouse property on Hummingbird Lane (he knows the address) and do an estimate for a complete home renovation. Again, this isn't your fucking money, so don't be a cheap asshole. Have Herveaux send the estimate directly to me when he is finished. Also have him include all the necessary costs for a security system similar to the one in my residences. _

I save the draft email and put my phone away because I sense two humans drifting closer to me. They think I'm unaware of their presence, but I had made note of them while I was inside the Shifter's bar. It's kind of hard for a vampire to miss two V addicts in a roomful of people. Judging by the way they are approaching me and the smell of silver in the air, I'd say these aren't your run of the mill junkies; they're also drainers. My fangs drop in anticipation; oh goody, I get to play with my meal after all tonight.

My eyes flick towards the business not more than ten feet away from me. I don't want the Shifter coming out here while I'm taking care of this annoyance, so I move further in the woods. How the fuck have these drainers managed to sneak up on any vampire? They are not trying to be quiet with their movements and they have no strategy. How do they think they can possibly defeat me? A newborn vampire maybe, but I'm over a thousand fucking years old; two strung out V addicts aren't going to be the reason I meet my True Death. Once I stop moving, the male comes at me in a full-out run, a silver chain in his hands. I thought maybe I'd get to enjoy this fight a bit, but I internally roll my eyes. The silver chain in his hands, while irritating, is not enough to completely disable me. What's actually more worrisome is the gun in the female skank's hands. Wooden or silver bullets will definitely disable me. These drainers are more skilled than I thought.

More worried about the woman than the man who is lunging towards me, I shoot up into the sky to avoid an attack from either one of them. Why engage them head on when I can pick them off at my leisure? I'm sitting high up in a tree about twenty feet away from where I left the ground. In the darkness neither human can see me.

"Where the fuck did he go?" The female's voice is shrill and full of irritation over my sudden departure. She turns the force of her anger on her partner. "You were supposed to throw the chain 'round him so he couldn't go nowhere. Fuck Mack! You can't do nuttin' right! Now we got nuttin'!"

"Well how the hell was I supposed to know vamps can fly?! Maybe he'll come back once he thinks we've gone. He seemed real interested in Crazy Sookie." A low growl rumbles in my chest as I listen to this pathetic excuse for a human talk about using the young waitress as bait to get me to come back. I was going to kill them anyway once I had all the information from them about any other potential drainers in the area as well as their client list. But now . . . now I think I'll let Pam have some fun with them . . . after I've tortured them first.

The female scoffs at the one called Mack. "What the fuck Mack?! You really think a vamper was interested in that dumb bitch? I think you've had too much V if you think anyone's interested in that fat cow. She's too stupid to know what to do with a man."

"I'd show her what she can do with a real man," he says while licking his lips and grabbing his crotch.

"You're a fucking pig!" The female slaps her partner in the shoulder, disgust all over her face. A deep rage settles in my chest as I hurtle out of the tree, colliding with the one called Mack so that his body is thrown into a tree while I fly back up in the sky to hover above the scene. He lands in a heap at the base of the tree, his neck broken. So much for letting Pam have any fun. It doesn't matter; I still have the female to deal with.

"Mack!" The female screams in horror as she sees the twisted, broken body of the man lying on the ground. His neck is at an unnatural angle, his face frozen in an expression of shock, and his eyes are lifeless. Part of me is pissed that he met his end so quickly; he deserved to suffer for even thinking of putting his hands on Miss Stackhouse. I have done many depraved things in my existence but rape has never been one of them. Raping another is a sign of weakness and cowardice.

I turn my attention to the slutty female, enjoying the scent of fear in the air. She fires two shots into the air; unfortunately for me, one of them grazes my arm and I bellow in pain. Fucking wooden bullets! Before the female can fire again, she crumples to the ground, groaning in pain. Standing over the injured woman with a bat in her hands is none other than Sookie Stackhouse. My, my . . . she is just full of surprises. She picks up the gun the drainer had dropped when falling to the ground. I drop to the ground and walk slowly towards her, my hands raised in front of my chest so she knows I mean her no harm.

"You alright?" She looks at my arm where the bullet grazed me. My jacket is torn, but the skin has already stitched itself together. There is just an itching sensation as the skin completely heals.

I nod my head once. I turn my attention towards the body. "Who are they?"

"Denise and Mack Rattray," my future pet offers. "They live in a trailer out near Four Corners."

"Shut up you stupid cunt!" Denise Rattray obviously has no sense of self-preservation, not that anything will save her now. I catch the drainer's eyes and glamour her into sitting still and shutting the fuck up. Finally, some peace and quiet!

Pulling my phone out, I text Dawson asking him to return to the Shifter's bar with his truck and some rope; he replies that isn't going to make my conversation with Miss Stackhouse go any easier. I tell him to fuck off and hurry up because I have two drainers; I neglect to tell him that only one of them is living. He responds that he'll be back within thirty minutes. I put my phone back in my pocket and find my soon-to-be pet eyeing me warily.

"What prompted you to come out here?"

She looks flustered for a minute before she responds. "I uh . . . I overheard them talking about wanting to get some vampire blood. I knew you were waiting for me to finish work so I hurried here after them."

I smirk at her obviously bad attempt at lying, but I push it to the side for now. "Were you worried for me Miss Stackhouse?"

She huffs indignantly. "I don't know _you_ Mr. Northman, but no one deserves what the Ratts had planned." She looks down at the glamoured drainer in disgust. For a moment I think I'm the telepath because I can tell the brave woman in front of me wants to kick the drainer in her ribs and it makes me chuckle.

Tonight is certainly not shaping up the way I had envisioned. I fully intended to propose everything to the Stackhouse family a a business proposition, keeping our relationship strictly professional. However, all of that went out the window the moment I laid eyes on the blonde telepath. I admit, her ability is very valuable, but compared to everything else I've learned about her this evening, it is not the most impressive thing about her. Dawson was right; Sookie Stackhouse is Little Miss Sunshine and I feel myself inexplicably drawn to her. It is more than her scent, her blood, or her telepathy; it's _her_, but I couldn't explain it to anyone if I tried. I don't like it. I need to maintain the upper hand in my dealings with this girl and her family.

"Go back inside," I command coldly. "I will wait here until my associate comes. We will talk once your shift is over."

"Excuse me," she huffs. "Next time I overhear someone planning to drain you, I'll ignore it!" She stomps away from me muttering under her breath with righteous indignation. She doesn't get very far though; she spins on her heel and stomps back in front of me. "What kind of big fat a-hole are you that you can't even say thank you when someone helps you out? Where I come from risking your own life to save someone else results in a 'thank you'. You know what, forget it! I don't wanna talk to you when my shift is over. In fact, I'll be happy if I never see you again!"

Gods, but I want her! She is absolutely beautiful in her fury. Her eyes sparkle and her cheeks are rosy; her breasts rise and fall rapidly with her quickened breathing. But the most alluring thing about her in this instant is her scent. Before it reminded me of sunlight, honey, and the wheat fields from my childhood; now it has intensified, like how the air thickens right before a thunderstorm. I have to stop breathing the air or else I will be fangs and balls deep inside her before her back hits the ground. This isn't just about sex or passing the time because I have nothing better to do; I truly desire the diminutive blonde in front of me. Fuck, could this situation get any more complicated?!

Before she spins away from me for good, I grab her arm. "I'm not finished with you yet," I tell her with a hint of a smile lifting my lips. However, she must not have any sense of self-preservation since she slaps me hard across the face. My eyes blaze hotly, not with anger but with a burning passion that threatens to consume me and her. I use every ounce of control I've acquired in my thousands years to tamp down my feelings of lust, so I can focus and bring us back on track. We have many things we need to talk about, and sex, while I'm sure it will be immensely pleasurable, will not solve anything tonight.

I release her arm and take a step back from her. It's impressive to see she is not intimidated by me at all, something I have not encountered from a human in many years . . . but she is not entirely human though she does not know it. "Unfortunately for you Miss Stackhouse, there are still many things we need to discuss this night. Let's start with what you 'heard' from the drainers."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I told you everything I heard. I need to be gettin' back inside 'fore Sam comes looking for me," she looks over her shoulder towards the Shifter's bar, and shifts her weight as she stands before me.

"One question then," I say holding up a single finger.

She rolls her eyes but waves her hand around, gesturing for me to hurry up. I smirk as I ask what's been lingering on my mind ever since I first saw her in action earlier tonight.

"What's a telepath doing wasting her talents in a backwoods bar in Bumfuck, Louisiana?"


	7. No Easy Way to Say This

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Miss Stackhouse blanches and sways on her feet. Fainting women are not something I feel like dealing with, so I vamp to her side, grabbing her arm to steady her. She shrieks whether from my sudden nearness or the coldness of my fingers, I do not know. However, her bravado returns because she tries to tug her arm free while ordering me to let her go.

"No." My short response and non-compliance set her off, and she starts calling me every vile name she can think of. In my thousand years of experience, I thought I had heard everything; so I am quite impressed with the fact she has come up with a few insults I've never heard of.

Quiet laughter interrupts the venom spewing from Miss Stackhouse's lips. I knew Dawson was approaching but Miss Stackhouse seems surprised by his presence. Surely if she can sense him a hundred feet from her home she could sense his arrival. Her ability truly fascinates me; I want to know every nuance of how it works.

"Oh good; I didn't miss the fireworks!" Dawson is still chuckling as he drops a large duffle bag at his feet. I'm sure the bag has everything I'll need to secure the surviving drainer. "Your meeting is going well I take it?" The grin on his face is so big that all of his teeth are visible; it reminds me of the wolf ready to eat the girl in the red cape from that Brothers' Grimm story.

Fucking Were! Due to his smartass comments it has me rethinking why I hired him if he is going to be finding humor at my expense. I have enough of this shit to deal with from my progeny; I don't need the added aggravation from a mangy dog. Before I can turn both my bark and my bite on the lone wolf, Miss Stackhouse interrupts us.

"Why can't I hear any of you?" Her tone is both wondrous and panicked. I release her arm in confusion. What is she talking about? Dawson and I are talking at a normal volume for human ears? Did she injure her head and I don't know about it?

"Can you hear me now?" My voice is a loud boom in the stillness of the woods and every critter in the woods goes silent. They recognize that a true apex predator is in their midst.

Miss Stackhouse surprises me by giggling. "I didn't realize this was a Verizon cell phone commercial! Should I check to see how many bars I have on my phone? Oh wait; I don't have a cell phone. I'll have to borrow one of yours." She giggles again; it's a musical, infectious sound and I find my lips wanting to curve in response. Unbelievable! Why does this girl cause such atypical responses in me?

Her face sobers and she glances warily between Dawson and me. She sighs before crossing her arms defensively over her chest. My eyes are drawn to how this pushes her breasts together and makes the cotton of her shirt stretch tautly across the breasts I am certain are a size D at least. The outline of her nipples is visible to my heightened eyesight and I have to wonder what color they are. Are they a pink color like the blush of her cheeks or are they a darker brown from her time in the sun? Inquiring minds want to know!

"My eyes are up here ya know," she snaps. My eyebrow rises in response but I say nothing. I'm not about to apologize for finding her attractive. That would be like asking her to apologize for breathing; it's an involuntary reaction that cannot be controlled.

"To answer your earlier question," she says after the silence has stretched between us, "I've lived in Bon Temps my whole life. Now I have a question for you. Why have you been having him," she points to Dawn who is securing the arms and legs of the drainer, "and others like him follow me?"

"What do you mean 'others like him'?" She can differentiate Weres from humans based on their thoughts alone? This ability gets more interesting the more I learn about it.

Miss Stackhouse looks at a loss for words, as if she is struggling to adequately describe what she encounters. "Most people think in a voice that sounds like the voice you hear audibly. Their thoughts can come across as full sentences, phrases, or even images, but it always sounds like them. You," she points at me, "I can't hear at all. You seem like a TV that's getting nothing but static. And when you were touching me, I couldn't hear anything. It was so quiet, peaceful. I've never felt that before," she says with a serene smile. My chest swells with pride knowing I was the one responsible for that smile. Seeing her so happy and relaxed makes me feel like I've found the fucking cure for cancer and settling the national debt while finding the path to world peace all in one.

"Buthim," Miss Stackhouse says while pointing almost apologetically for not referring to Dawson by his given name. "His thoughts are tinged with colors, like it's an emotion or instinct. And he tends to think more in pictures than words. I'm not really describing it well, but if I had to use a word to describe it, I'd have to say wild or animalistic."

My grin is devilish when I look at the Were, who is scowling at me as he wraps the corpse in a tarp. "It seems Miss Stackhouse has begged you correctly Dawson; you are a wild dog after all." Dawson's looking at me as if he is sucking on a lemon. Rather than rub his face in it anymore, I take control of the conversation. "Miss Stackhouse, I'd like you to meet Tray Dawson, an associate of mine. He and a few others have watched you and your family until I could make contact with you. It was for your protection."

"Am I in some kind of trouble?" She looks worried and I am quick to reassure her that there is nothing wrong. Not technically a lie, but not the entire truth either. Before I can continue speaking, the Shifter comes running, interrupting our conversation again.

"Dammit Sookie! What the hell do ya think you're doin'?! He's a vampire; you're gonna get yourself killed!" The Shifter then grabs Miss Stackhouse by her upper arms and is shaking her like one would those Magic 8 Balls that answer your ridiculous question. How _dare_ he put his paws on her?

I grab the Shifter by the throat and squeeze, cutting off his air supply. My voice is a deadly hiss when I begin speaking. "Remove your filthy paws from her. The only one to hurt her tonight has been you Shifter. Release her or I will do it for you! I do not guarantee you will have all your parts intact if I have to remove your hands from Miss Stackhouse myself."

In the only intelligent move I've seen the Shifter make this evening, he releases the Fae-hybrid. I guess you really can teach an old dog a new trick. As I throw the Shifter away from Miss Stackhouse, I am pleased to see Dawson put himself between Merlotte and Miss Stackhouse. Merlotte's eyes widen incredulously and he unleashes his fury on Dawson as he rises from the ground.

"You're working for him now?! Since when the fuck have you sided with a vamp over one of your own kind?!"

Dawson gets right in Merlotte's face, acting like the true Alpha wolf I know he is. "I'm siding with Northman when he's done nothing but make sure the Stackhouse family has been protected this past week and plans to keep protecting them in the future. I am siding with the Sheriff of Area Five who is dealing with the issue of two drainers in his territory, something you failed to notify him of. Why is that Merlotte? Were you getting a cut of their sales? Or did you like the idea of one less vampire in the world to offend your delicate sensibilities?"

And that right there is why Tray Dawson has my respect. He focuses on the issues at hand and not choosing sides based on Were versus vampire. Merlotte is gaping like a fish, trying to think of a response to Dawson. Eventually, the Shifter backs down, his tail tucked firmly between his legs. His eyes are pleading with Miss Stackhouse, and the way her eyes narrow in response makes me think she's heard something she doesn't like.

"You know what Sam; I think it'd be best if I went home for the night. Clearly you don't need me in there, and frankly, I don't wanna be around you with how you're actin'! I'll see you tomorrow!" She stomps off, heading back towards the bar. The Shifter calls her name, shouting apologies, and asking her to talk to him. He tries to go after her, but Dawson stays in front of him, making it clear that Miss Stackhouse is to be left alone.

Once I'm confidant Miss Stackhouse can no longer hear us in the literal sense, I turn the full force of my fury on the Shifter. I would like nothing more than to do physical harm to him, but I know it will only damage my fledgling relationship with the young woman. "You will no longer interfere in my business with Miss Stackhouse. She is to be my pet as will her brother and grandmother. If you interfere or harm them in any way from this moment forward, I will enjoy showing you exactly what happens to an animal that is past its time!"

"Your pets?" The Shifter's voice and expression show his incredulity. "What the hell do you want with the entire family? The Stackhouses are good people; too good to be chewed up and spit out by a damn fanger!"

I've had enough of his posturing and blustering. Catching his eyes with my own, I use the full force of my glamour to erase the knowledge of the Stackhouse family's relationship to me. I also glamour him not to interfere with my dealings with Miss Stackhouse; his will is strong and he tries to fight me. In the end, my glamour wins out. Before releasing him from my influence, I plant the memory that he came to the woods to deal with the Rattrays causing a disturbance on his property. Rather than calling the local police, he tried to deal with it himself. As soon as I finish the cover story, Dawson lands a punch to the gut of the Shifter and then one to his chin; it knocks Merlotte out cold.

I look at Dawson with amusement and he shrugs nonchalantly. "Consider that me going above and beyond the requirements of my job. Asshole had it coming." He hauls the bound and gagged drainer over his shoulder. He gestures his head towards the body wrapped in the tarp. "If you can get that one, my truck's at the edge of the woods. I'll take the woman to Fangtasia. What should I do with the other one?"

"Pam will let you know. She'll also have something for you as payment for going above and beyond your duties tonight." I've hefted the corpse over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. We walk in silence to Dawson's vehicle and deposit our cargo inside the cargo hold. Once the cover is secured over the bodies, Dawson turns to me with a grin which lets me know I'm not gonna like what he has to say.

"You said Pam will have something for me going above and beyond huh? Maybe she'll wanna play knick-knack, paddy whack, give a dog a bone."

My progeny has questionable taste when it comes to her sexual partners. She prefers women, which I fully support, but when she decides she wants to play with a man, she prefers virile, rugged men that can dominate her. Pam does not often take a man to her bed, but lately her partner of choice has been Dawson.

"I don't know, I think you might be in need of a flea bath tonight. You're lookin' a little mangy."

Dawson gives me a slow, wicked grin while scratching his beard. "Pam's usually good for scratching any itch I've got." My stony expression makes him chuckle again. He climbs into the cab of his truck, turning the key so the engine roars to life. "Have fun talkin' to Miss Stackhouse. You look like you were doin' a bang up job before. I'll be sure to let Pam know all the progress you've been makin'."

Dawson's chuckles are the last thing I hear as I take off in the sky towards the Stackhouse home. The death trap she calls a car was not in the parking lot. Why the fuck didn't she wait for me so we could finish our conversation? As I approach the old homestead, I notice no lights are on; even the flickering of the TV is no more. The piece of shit car that had been in the parking lot of the bar is next to the sedan I'd noticed earlier. Does she think she can avoid having this conversation? I may not have an invitation to enter her home, but that won't stop me from getting to her. It won't be the first time I've torn down a house to get to those inside.

"Are you gonna fly around all night or are you actually gonna talk to me? Some of us need our beauty rest." Despite the soft tone, the sarcasm is heavy in her voice. As I land on the porch steps, I see Miss Stackhouse sitting on an old wooden porch swing with her body covered by a hideous multi-colored homemade blanket. She's removed the band from her hair; it falls around her shoulders like spun gold. It makes her look softer, more womanly, and I feel myself drawn to her again. Walking up the porch steps, I notice that she really is exhausted; her eyes are heavy and she keeps yawning.

"Perhaps we should do this another time. You are weary and I do not wish to repeat this conversation because you cannot keep your eyes open."

Her eyes snap open showing the blue fire within. Clearly she has no sense of self-preservation because she thinks nothing of arguing with a thousand-year old vampire. "Listen Buster; I want some answers! I answered your damn questions earlier; don't think I didn't notice you avoided answering mine! Who are you and what do you want?"

Bristling at her tone, I answer in a clipped voice. "My name is Eric Northman; I am Sheriff of Area Five in Louisiana."

"A vampire sheriff?" Her voice is suspicious as she ponders my words. It's like I can see the gears turning in her brain as she thinks. Finally she shrugs offhandedly before replying in an even tone. "I guess that makes sense; you gotta have someone to keep the vampires in line. I'm sure y'all have rules to follow too; otherwise y'all wouldn't have been a secret for so long. So what can I do for you Sheriff?"

Incredible! Rather than asking me ridiculous questions about my position, she is able to think rationally and of the bigger picture. As an observer of the human condition for ten centuries, I can tell you that does not happen often. "Actually, I believe it is something I can do for you. When was the last time you saw your cousin?" The Stackhouse family is small; she will know exactly whom I am speaking of.

"Hadley?" She scrunches up her nose which causes a v to form between her eyes. "We haven't seen Hadley since she left home years ago. Do you know where she is?"

I nod my head. "She's living in New Orleans . . . with the Vampire Queen of Louisiana."

"You're fuckin' kiddin' me right?" She laughs heartily and I'm easily distracted by the fact her laughter does amazing things to her breasts. The blanket that covered her body slips down revealing two of the most perfect unharnessed breasts I've ever seen. She's removed the bra she'd worn for work and it's clear the bra was not intended to help hold the girls up; a bra on her is just pretty decoration. I'm finding it harder and harder to remember why I wanted this to be a business arrangement. She's going to be my pet after all; a pet's purpose is to please their master. One time won't hurt anything right?

Her laughter turns into quiet chuckles and she's wiping her eyes with her fingers. "I'm sorry; I don't know why I found that so funny! It's just ridiculous to think that there's a Vampire Queen of Louisiana!"

Part of me wants to be offended by her mirth, but I can't. Looking at it from her eyes, it _is_ ridiculous. And if she ever meets Sophie-Anne, Miss Stackhouse will realize even more how absurd the situation is since the Queen is nothing but a spoiled brat. Which is the reason I'm here this evening. "I assure you, if you are ever in the presence of the Queen, you will not want to laugh. She is a very temperamental woman, and like most vampires, she is a very selfish creature. Sophie-Anne Leclerq is used to getting her way and doesn't handle it well when someone denies her something she wants."

"So what you're saying is . . . she's a brat." I smile and dip my head in acknowledgement of her words. I've drifted closer to her during our conversation; it was not intentional. I wanted to remain aloof, detached; I am not supposed to get involved with the Stackhouse family any more than necessary. However, something about this girl draws me in. Even now I feel as if there is a connection between the two of us; it's like an invisible rope that's stretched tautly. The closer I am to the girl, the more relaxed the rope becomes. This is maddening!

"Well, I guess she and Hadley get on like a house on fire, since they have so much in common. But what do Hadley and the Queen of Louisiana have to do with you stalking me?"

"I am not stalking you," I declare indignantly. "I have arranged protection for you and your family."

She looks at me with raised eyebrows and an expression of exasperation. "Protection my family was not aware of that watches us from the shadows and reports our every action back to you: means stalking in my book."

"Are we going to debate semantics or do you want to know the reasons behind my actions?" As much as the girl draws me in, she frustrates me like no one else. I swear she'll be able to give Pam a run for her money, and Pam's had a century to perfect the art of arguing with me.

"Sophie-Anne has taken Hadley for her pet." I hold up my hand to stop Miss Stackhouse from interrupting me with her righteous indignation. "A pet to a vampire is someone who belongs to the vampire. It is usually a mutually beneficial relationship. The vampire receives blood and sex from a willing partner; the human is financially taken care of. In some cases, there is an emotional attachment between the pet and their master. This is the case with Sophie-Anne; she loves your cousin. So much so that she is considering bonding with her and eventually turning Hadley into one of her progenies. In an effort to protect Hadley, Sophie-Anne contacted me to make certain that Hadley's family is protected and cared for. It is not uncommon in our world to use the ones closest to a vampire against them."

I am leaning against the porch railing as I finish my explanation. Miss Stackhouse is staring at me with an owlish expression, but her body is practically humming with energy. She vaults off the swing to pace the length of the porch; her feet slapping against the aged wooden slabs. The blanket lays forgotten on the swing as she paces in agitation, so I'm able to enjoy the show of watching her body as she walks. I lose myself in fantasies for a moment as I think of how passionate she will be once she is in my bed. I know she is a virgin; I can smell her innocence. My fangs and cock throb in anticipation as I think of the ways I will prepare her body to receive me; how I can train her to be the perfect sexual partner. Knowing I will be the first to have her gives me a small shiver of pleasure and my eyes roll in the back of my head.

Miss Stackhouse stops her pacing and whirls around to walk back in front of me. She is oblivious to the sexual haze I seem to find myself in. "I get that Hadley's a selfish twat that would enjoy bein' takin' care of like a whore by a rich vampire. Hadley's always been lazy and always wanted others to take care of her. As much as it broke my Gran's heart, I was happy to see her leave because it meant she wasn't our problem anymore. But don't you _dare_think for a second that I'm just like her! I don't need someone to pay me to sleep with them or give them my blood! And I'll be damned if I'll ever call you 'master'! I am a human being, not a slave for you to do what you want with! Gran and me have been doin' just fine on our own; we don't need you or anybody else coming in here and turning our lives upside down!" She moves to stomp away, and yet again, I grab her arm to hold her in place.

I get right in her face so she can see how much her words have angered me. "I'm not here to enslave you! I'm here because of a Queen's command that the entire Stackhouse family be protected, including you. And I do not think your great-grandfather would allow me to enslave any of you, so come off your high horse and listen to my proposition!"

"My great-grandfather?" All the fight leaves her body and she's staring at me with wide, hurt eyes. "Everyone in my family is dead except Gran, Jason, and Hadley. Aren't they?"

Shit! I didn't mean to bring up Brigant. "That is something you need to ask your grandmother. It is her story to tell," I say quietly. I hate the look in her eyes; knowing that now I'm the one to cause her pain is like a stake to my heart. Wordlessly, she yanks her arm out of my grip and runs into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Well, that didn't go quite like I hoped.


	8. The Beginning

One week after my conversation with Miss Stackhouse, I am sitting on my throne in Fangtasia in a foul mood. Going over the events from that evening, I once again feel my frustrations rising. She had slammed the door in my face after I had told her everything she needed to know; I knew it signified the end of our conversation. and my frustrations are rising. I knew I had thrown a lot of information at her that evening, so I decided to give her some space. I thought a day or two was more than fair to allow her to come to terms with the arrangement we were to have, even if she did misconstrue what our relationship would be. For her brother and grandmother, it would certainly be a business arrangement. I had no wish to make either of them a pet in the traditional sense of the word. As for Miss Stackhouse, I am vacillating on how I want to move forward with her. When I'm around her, I lose focus on the issue at hand. Yes, she smells amazing and her body is exactly the way a woman's should be: soft, curvy, and meant to be worshiped before being devoured. And her blood calls to me like none I've ever encountered. But now that I'm away from her, I can think critically and rationally. I'm sure being involved with Miss Stackhouse will be pleasurable for a short amount of time, but it will ultimately be bad for business. Not only did she make it perfectly clear she isn't an easy fuck like her cousin, but there is the little issue of her fairy great-grandfather. I have no wish to end up a pile of ash because he found fault with my arrangement with his family member.

I find that I respect her. The fact she wasn't intimidated by me and didn't fall at my feet like the brainless, revolting fangbangers here at the club was utterly refreshing. Her fire and spirit drew me in and I found I wanted to encourage her spirit and not snuff it out. I found myself wanting to treat her as my equal . . . But that was a week ago. I haven't heard from the obstinate brat in seven days, so instead of encouraging her fire, I find I want to crush it. _I _am the one in charge, not her. _I _am a thousand-year old vampire; she will learn quickly that I do not deal with insubordination. The only reason I have not returned to the Stackhouse home is because Desmond Cataliades informed me that a copy of the contracts had been delivered to the Stackhouse family for their perusal on the third day. How the family knew to contact him was something of a mystery, but the demon ended the call before I could question him. I am tired of feeling like my existence is spinning out of control and I am no longer master of my fate. It feels as if I am merely a puppet and someone else is pulling the strings. It is time Miss Stackhouse learns who is the master and who is the pet.

My mind is moving quickly through all my moves and counter moves as I sit looking unapproachable on my throne. Word has spread through the vermin that my mood has become increasingly surly this week; so naturally, the bar is nearly at capacity. Why the humans find it exciting to be in the presence of death is beyond me. As a human, I did not actively seek death, but I did not shy away from the situations where I might meet it. As a vampire, death surrounds us at all times, but I find as I become older I am more guarded about my existence. I have lived far too long to allow something ridiculous be the end of me. But these humans actively seek to be scared, humiliated, abused and used. I have made a sizeable profit from this idiotic fascination they have, but I find it pathetic now where I once found it amusing. To have the humans actively seek us out when we once had to hide our existence was initially intoxicating, but I learned quickly that the ones seeking us out were not worthy of my time or attention. I miss the thrill of the hunt, using my skills to capture my prey. What fun or satisfaction is there in digging through the trash of society to find my meal?

A pulse of excitement bursts through the bond I have with my child but it is quickly replaced with a deep sense of amusement. Pam is working the door this evening, so I have no idea what could have caused those reactions. Perhaps she is watching stupid human tricks again on YouTube. It is amazing the shit people will post on the internet.

My attention snaps to the door when I catch the seductive fragrance I encountered when I met Miss Stackhouse last week. But that can't be; there is no way she would have come here to the lion's den so to speak. My eyes widen in shock, then narrow in anger. What is she thinking coming to a vampire bar alone when she smells like a vampire's wet dream? Add that to the way she is dressed, and you have the perfect example of vampire bait. In truth, I do not think a full-blooded fairy would be as appealing as this girl in her innocent white dress with the splashes of red. The white emphasizes her innocence and makes her stand head and shoulders above the pathetic vermin. But the red flowers will drive a vampire insane with bloodlust because it reminds us of the intoxicating blood she possesses beneath her golden smooth skin.

Pam blurs to my side in an instant. She maintains her bored indifference for the patrons but our bond is bouncing like a child on a sugar high. She begins speaking in Swedish. "If you don't want her, I'd be more than happy to take her off your hands. She smells divine. How am I supposed to stomach the vermin now that I've smelled perfection?"

"She is _mine_," I snarl in English. Every vampire's attention snaps to me and they bow their heads marginally to acknowledge my claim over the girl. Pam's acute disappointment fills the bond and I hear the pout in her voice as she speaks in Swedish again. "What about the brother? I might switch teams if he's like his sister."

"He smells better than the average human, but nowhere near as good as his sister," I say with a smirk in my native tongue

"You smug bastard," Pam says with disgust. We watch in silence as she orders a drink from the bar. My scowl deepens when I realize Longshadow is trying to glamour her. My quiet growl has him snapping to attention and he places the drink quickly in front of her before moving away. When Miss Stackhouse turns around, her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. I smirk in response as I gesture with two fingers for her to approach me. Unfortunately, an overeager fangbanger thinks I mean them. He crawls up the stage and begins kissing the leather of my boot. Without thinking, I kick the man away from me, sending him flying into a table near the stage. The table shatters and he falls to the floor. The metallic scent of blood fills the air and the unmistakable snap of fangs clicking in place can be heard around the bar. My eyes dart to every vampire in attendance, daring them to make a move. There will be no feeding in public; the human authorities have raided my business several times since we have opened looking for any reason to issue violations or shut us down. I have few rules in my area and believe I am a fair Sheriff, but if any of the vampires in here cause me to lose money because they can't control their urges, I will have no qualms about making an example of someone.

After a few tense moments, a vampire named Taryn approaches the stage. She is over a century old, having been turned during the potato famine in Ireland in the 1840s. Taryn nods respectfully towards me before making her way to the middle-aged man in the khakis and polo I had kicked to the curb.

She holds her hand out to help him up. He rises unsteadily to his feet; there is a gash about the length of my index finger bleeding profusely on his head. Head wounds are always gushers, but he does not need medical attention. Taryn introduces herself to the fangbanger and he follows after her like a puppy dog. She will arrange for his memory to be erased of the incident as well as healing his wound; she will get a free dinner for her trouble.

Activity resumes as two vampires clean up the mess the human had made while Pamela brings another table out from storage. During the momentary upheaval, I lost sight of Miss Stackhouse.

"Pamela, where did she go?" She sticks out like a sore thumb. How could she disappear?

My progeny rolls her eyes. "She's a human Eric. Perhaps she is in the ladies' room powdering her nose."

"Find her!" With the exception of Taryn, all the vampires in the bar that were here prior to the incident with the human are still here. I have this irrational fear that something has happened to her under my very nose.

Before Pamela can move the smell of honey drifts through the air. As Pamela had suspected, Miss Stackhouse is coming from the hallway that led to the restrooms. She really is a candle in a coal mine, the lone bright spot in a sea of darkness. I vamp in front of her before she can move. "Miss Stackhouse, what a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?"

She looks slightly uncomfortable before straightening her shoulders. "I came to apologize," she says resolutely.

"For what exactly?"

She sighs with loudly before replying. "You didn't deserve to be treated that way last week. You're only doin' what needs to be done. I'm sorry for taking my anger, frustrations, and hurt out on you."

I nod briskly. "Would you care to continue this conversation in my office? There would be fewer prying eyes and ears there."

"I think that would be best," she says after careful consideration. I gesture for her to go back down the hallway and she turns on her heel. I can admit the back of the dress flatters her figure just as much as the front. She pauses outside the women's restroom door. She turns back around with a frown on her face.

"If you don't want trouble with the police, then you need to get the vampire in the bathroom to stop feeding on the man you kicked. There is an undercover officer wearing a trucker's hat that has radioed for backup because he believes something illegal is going on." Her voice has been low and steady, barely loud enough for me to hear. But I growl in frustration as I kick open the bathroom door then yank the stall door off its hinges. Just as Miss Stackhouse stated, Taryn has her fangs in the pathetic man's neck. As she feeds from him, he is babbling happily and there is a cum stain on his pants showing how much he is enjoying himself. Taryn drops the human as soon as she sees me and he begins sobbing pitifully, begging for her to continue.

"You have disobeyed the rules of my area," I state coldly. "Get him out of here now before the police show up. You will receive your punishment tomorrow. Be here an hour before sunrise. If you disobey me further, it will be a year in a silver coffin. Understand?"

Taryn mumbles, "Yes, Sheriff," before dragging the weeping human out of the bathroom and out the bar. Before returning to Miss Stackhouse, I fire off a quick text to Pam letting her know of the impending raid, Taryn's crime, and that I am leaving with Miss Stackhouse. She responds back that she will handle everything and that I'm a lucky bastard. I'm sure my credit card will feel her displeasure tonight. Putting my phone away, I grab Miss Stackhouse's arm to lead her out the employee's entrance.

"Wait a minute! I thought we were gonna talk in your office," she says as she tried to pull out of my grip. She's only going to end up bruising herself if she continues her struggles.

"As you pointed out, I am about to be raided." The sounds of police sirens can be heard in the distance so I vamp us to my car and secure her inside before vamping to the driver's seat. The engine of my Corvette roars to life, and I put her in drive, gunning the engine so we can beat the police arrival.

"I do not wish to delay our conversation any further; therefore, I do not feel like dealing with the interruption the police will cause. My associate will handle everything, which leaves us free to continue our discussion." I shift gears seamlessly, enjoying the purr of the engine as we cruise down the highway. A quick glance out of my peripheral shows Miss Stackhouse clutching the door with both hands. I chuckle with amusement. "Something wrong with my driving?"

"Not if you're tryin' to qualify for the Daytona 500," she snaps quickly and with fire. I cannot help laughing at her discomfort. The only car accidents I've ever been in are the ones I have intentionally caused.

"I assure you, I am a superb driver. Nothing will happen to us." To illustrate my point, I look at her fully with a smile on my face as I cross over two lanes of traffic to get the fast lane where I can drive as fast as I want. My normal speed is 125 mph.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus," she mutters as her lashes flutter over her eyes and I laugh again. She keeps her eyes tightly closed as I continue driving. I wish to have a private conversation with her, but I am uncomfortable taking her to one of my houses, even if it is one I do not rest in. For this conversation I think we need to be somewhere that is neutral ground for both of us. I have enough of an advantage as it is; I do not need her to feel as if I am holding her hostage. It is with that in mind that has me pulling off the highway and heading towards Lake Bistineau State Park. Within a few moments we are sitting in my parked vehicle letting the silence of the woods surround us.

"Did you bring me here so I can sleep with the fishes?" Miss Stackhouse is smiling a small, shy smile as she looks straight ahead through the windshield at Lake Bistineau. My own face relaxes in a teasing grin as I think of an appropriate comeback from _The Godfather_, which is one of my all-time favorite movies.

"Something tells me that if you and I were to go to the mattresses, we'd find something more pleasurable to do than put a horse head in it," I say with a smirk.

"Hmph," she says as she crosses her arms over her chest, but her grin widens. "Sorry Sheriff but I'm not interested in your gun; I'd rather eat the cannoli."

"But my gun has all the white cream filling you can eat," I purr wickedly as I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. "You know you want to lick it all up," I whisper closer to her. My breath fans across her ear, sending shivers down her spine. My eyes are mesmerized by the sudden rapid rising and falling of her breasts. I feel myself hardening as the scent of her arousal saturates the air in the car. The pulse beneath her skin is hypnotizing and my fangs ache with the need to taste her supple flesh.

"I like my seamen in their dress white uniforms, doing their duty to protect the country. Your semen will just have to find some other port to call home," she says with a sassy wink as she exits the vehicle. The blast of hot, humid air weakens her scent inside the car and I am able to regain my focus on the issues at hand. Exiting the vehicle, I find Miss Stackhouse walking along the path that leads to the lake. We walk in silence until we reach the lakeshore. Miss Stackhouse removes her shoes before stepping gingerly on the grass. She ambles along until she drops daintily to the ground, spreading her skirt around her before patting the grass next to her, indicating that I should join her.

Dropping to the ground beside her, I recline back on my elbow with my other arm propped on my bent knee. Usually a human fidgets uncontrollably when in my presence, but Miss Stackhouse remains oddly still. I am content to let her take the reins on our conversation this evening. Last time, I had overwhelmed her and I did not wish to do that again.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was for me this week to ask my Gran about this great-grandfather you mentioned?" Her voice is achingly soft as she plucks at a blade of grass absent-mindedly. "Gran never really talked about her husband. He disappeared about a year after my parents died. He'd gone out fishing one morning and never came back; there was never any sign of his boat. His truck was found by the pond behind my parents' house. I always thought it was too painful for her to talk about. She'd buried her son and daughter-in-law; a year later her husband was gone too. My Aunt Linda died when I was a teenager from cancer. And Gran's brother . . ." her voice cuts off abruptly. My eyes flick to her face; tears are seeping from her closed eyes and she is panting heavily as if she's been running. Her hands are fisted in her lap and her body shakes. This is fear; I've seen it enough from my prey to know all the signs. My investigator did not mention a brother for Adele Stackhouse. I need to know everything I can about him. For the mere mention of his name to elicit this type of reaction from Miss Stackhouse means he must have done something truly despicable. I know she is still a virgin, but there are other things he could have done to steal her innocence. I am torn between the need to find this man and peel the skin from his body like the skin from an apple and the urge to wrap my arms around Miss Stackhouse and comfort her. With a sigh, I do the only action I can in this moment and that's comfort her. She feels so small in my arms, but she shifts until all the tension leaves her body. As her body relaxes, I notice that she just "fits". I sigh heavily as I realize my mundane existence is at an end; this tiny creature in my arms has me swinging from one emotional extreme to the next. I wonder if they make medication for vampire mood swings. Pam likes to claim that I suffer from male PMS. She left me a bottle of PMS medication on my desk one time but she had altered the product label. Instead of saying Pamprin, it had said Vamprin.

"You have nothing to fear Miss Stackhouse; you have my word," I say quietly against her head.

"I know," she says simply. She pulls back from my embrace to look at me as she continues her story. "Gran tried to deny any extra family members, but her memories gave her away. In her mind, I was able to see a beautiful man approach her while she was hanging laundry in the sun. Her memories flashed to things no child ever wants to see of a parent or a grandparent," she says with a scrunched up nose and I cannot help but chuckle quietly.

"You would not have liked to be alive during my time as a human Little One. Everyone lived in one long room. There was no such thing as privacy or modesty during my human days," I say as I look through the span of history.

"You mean . . ." she gulps and turns a delicious shade of red. I can't resist teasing her.

"Everyone would know when we fucked," I say with waggle of my eyebrows and a wiggle of my hips, letting her know that I am not unaffected by our close proximity.

She laughs and slaps playfully at my shoulder. "None of that nasty talk buster! You forget I am a lady," she says primly. However, she does not leave the confines of my arms or her place on my lap. If anything, she wiggles around teasing me in the most delicious of ways.

"You are playing with fire little girl," I growl as a warning.

She becomes contrite and stills in my arms. "I'm sorry, but you distracted me."

"Forgive me. Please continue your story."

She clears her throat and resumes her tale. There is a tinge of sadness in her voice as she speaks and I find my hand rubbing soothingly over her back as my other thumb rubs gently against her palm. "Gran eventually told me about Fintan, my real grandfather. I wish I had known the truth growing up. It would have been so nice to know I wasn't alone, that I wasn't the only freak out there."

My hands move to frame her face, turning her head so she can see my face. I want her to know that I am completely serious in what I am about to say. "You are not a freak, Miss Stackhouse. You are a beautiful young woman with a truly amazing gift. I regret that you felt alone when you were younger, but know this, you will never be alone again."


	9. Meet the Family

The conversation with Miss Stackhouse – I mean Sookie – was illuminating to say the least. She said formality seemed misplaced given the situation we found ourselves in. Our conversation ran the gamut from sexual banter to confessions of her family's deepest, darkest secrets. She said her grandmother was less than forthcoming when it came to talking about Sookie's true grandfather; the only information Mrs. Stackhouse had been willing to give her was the name of Fintan's lawyer. It was no shock to me when she said Desmond Cataliades was that lawyer. Sookie had wasted no time contacting the demon lawyer, which is how she managed to get copies of the contracts I wished to have with her family. Sookie spent a lot of time conversing with Cataliades; the lawyer apparently had been a close friend with the half-Fae prince. He was able to provide Sookie with stories about her blood relative as well as give special items Fintan had left for Sookie. From the little Sookie told me, Fintan always intended to be more involved in her life, but the deaths of her parents had altered his plans.

To human eyes, the deaths of Corbett and Michelle Stackhouse looked to be the result of a tragic accident caused by severe thunderstorms and a freak flash flood. But to the Supernatural community, it was a guerrilla attack by warring factions within the Fae realm. As Sookie explained to me, her introductory crash-course in all things Fae started with understanding that the Fae species all relate to an element in nature: sky, water, earth, and fire. Her family is the royal family for the Sky Fae and they are at war with the Water Fae. The Water Fae believe that the declining numbers of their race and the low fertility rate are due to cross-breeding with humans and spending far too much time in the human realm which has an abundance of iron, something that full-blooded Fae react negatively to. Iron is to the Fae what silver is to a vampire. So the Water Fae declared war on the Sky Fae; instead of fighting the battle in the Fae realm, they chose to fight it in the human realm by adopting practices employed during the 1930s and 1940s by Hitler and again in the 1990s in the former country of Yugoslavia and the African nation of Rwanda. The Water Fae were kidnapping, torturing, and ultimately murdering any Fae that was not pure blood. They were also attacking those pure-blooded Fae that associated with humans, with the royal house of Brigant being caught in the cross hairs.

In order to keep his grandchildren safe, Fintan killed those that murdered his son, but then kept himself hidden from his family. I could tell during our conversation that Sookie mourned the loss of her grandfather even though they had never met. Niall had said it would not be safe for him to meet Sookie, but I feel Sookie deserves to meet her Fae family; she deserves to know exactly how special she is.

Sookie had told me of the hours she spent reading Fintan's journals and speaking with Cataliades to get his perspective on some of the things she read. I am surprised to learn how closely the demon lawyer has been involved in the Stackhouse family's lives. He has always stayed on the fringes, but he has watched over them on Fintan's behalf and intervened when he felt it was necessary. I do not understand why he didn't intervene with Hadley and Sophie-Anne. Perhaps it is as the Prince said; she made her choice and she must deal with the consequences. However, Hadley does seem to be well-treated by my queen. It was obvious that Sophie-Anne has feelings for Hadley; perhaps Hadley has feelings for the vampire queen as well.

In addition to reading over her grandfather's journals, Sookie read the contracts I intended to have her family sign. She said she had some concerns with some items in there, and she said I needed to discuss everything with _all_ of the members of the Stackhouse family. She was not willing to commit her brother to anything, especially if it is something he will not be comfortable with. I found it interesting she did not extend the same consideration to her grandmother. I wonder how much the secrets of the matriarch of the family have damaged her relationship with her granddaughter.

It's Thursday evening and I am getting ready to officially meet the Stackhouse family. When Sookie and I made plans to discuss everything with her family, she said she will invite her brother over for dinner this evening. She'd snorted when she said he was motivated by three things in life: food, booze, and women. He'd settle for two of the three by coming over for dinner and would more than likely get the third later in the evening. She said she would have the dinner around sunset so that I could arrive shortly after they finished eating to discuss everything.

I'd spent hours talking with Sookie Stackhouse the previous evening, clearing the air so to speak. She had been completely open and honest with me and I was more forthcoming with her than I'd been with anyone outside of my bloodline. Everything about the woman who is like sunshine in a pretty blonde bottle draws me in; she is beautiful, intelligent, funny, spirited, and brave. Her spirit and intelligence challenge me and I find that I enjoy pitting my brain against hers. I could not remember when a beating heart had entertained me with ribald jokes instead of fear or sex. And I don't think there is any question that I find her desirable. I enjoy her company; so why the fuck am I so goddamn nervous for this meeting tonight?

Upon rising for the evening, I hurried through my shower so I could get ready for my trip to the Stackhouse home. However, that is where my dilemma lies. The floor of my bedroom is littered with discarded clothing. What the hell does one wear to a meeting where they are dragging skeletons out of a family closet, introducing the Supernatural world to someone who knows nothing, and is placing an entire family under contract as vampire pets? My hair stands on end as I've run my hands through it several times in frustration. I've drained multiple bags of donor blood, but I still feel on edge. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Jesus Christ Eric, it's like you're a virgin on prom night! You're giving me white hairs with all this anxiety," Pam says snidely from the door to my chamber. She stares at my naked body clinically as she takes in the chaos that is my room. Neither one of us is bothered by my nudity; we were sexual partners for many years before that aspect of our relationship fizzled out. She knows every inch of my body intimately as I know hers. We can appreciate the beauty of each other's body, but there is no longer the sexual attraction there once was.

"You're not being very helpful Pam," I say in frustration. "What the hell should I wear this evening?"

"Why the hell does it matter what you wear tonight? It's not like this is a date; it's a business arrangement," Pam says forcefully.

"I have to tread carefully Pamela. This has the potential to blow-up in our faces if things are not handled delicately," I remind her. My progeny's faith in me is unshakable, but she sometimes forgets that even I have to answer to someone else.

"Fine," she says with a huff as she crosses my room to pick through the clothes scattered on my floor. She hands me a pair of dark jeans before walking in my closet. She returns with a light blue v-neck sweater. "Wear this; it brings out your eyes. It is also dressy without being formal."

"Thank you," I say before slipping the clothes on quickly and then moving to my vanity to slick my hair back with gel.

"Dear Abby recommends bringing a gift when meeting a girl's parents for the first time," Pam says out of the blue. "She also recommends finding topics of conversation that keep the conversation going as well as being complimentary. It is also crucial that you show respect to the girl you are dating so that the parents will approve of you."

I look at Pam flabbergasted. She has been fascinated with Dear Abby since its start in 1956. Pam was convinced the column was written by a vampire because of how long it has been published and how sound the advice is. She doesn't believe the women credited with being "Abby" are the true authors; she thinks they are humans glamoured by a vampire to claim credit for the column.

"This isn't a date Pamela," I say firmly.

"Keep telling yourself that," she smirks as she walks out of my room.

"What kind of present?" I growl out the question after silently brooding for several minutes. I grit my teeth in annoyance as I hear Pam laughing from her room. Fuck my life!

I pull up to the Stackhouse home nearly forty-five minutes later. There are three vehicles parked beside the home, so I am led to believe that all three members of the Stackhouse family are inside. The entire ride over I've prepared myself for this conversation. I know it is not going to be easy with the senior member of the family. If at all possible, I will keep the discussion about their Supernatural connection to a minimum. Perhaps the brother will not even connect the dots. Sookie and I had discussed the possibility of me using glamour on her grandmother and brother if they were recalcitrant to what I will be proposing. I have my doubts it will work on the brother, but the older woman is fair game.

A knock at my driver's side window startles me from my ruminations. I drop fang and hiss in warning. Sookie stands on the other side of my door with her eyebrows raised in question. "Are you gonna stay out here all night?"

My fangs snap back in place and I wait for her to step back so I can exit the vehicle. Sookie's eyes flick back and forth between the items in my hand and my face. "You brought me flowers?" Her voice is soft in the night but there is no mistaking the incredulous tone in her voice. Her lower lip trembles slightly and I feel like an asshole. Pam is going to pay dearly if she has caused me to fuck this up.

"Actually the flowers are for your grandmother," I say gruffly. Sookie looks crestfallen and I make note to send her flowers sometime soon. If something as insignificant as flowers will keep her happy, I'll buy her a goddamn florist shop so she can have flowers when she wants.

"I did bring you this though," I say as I quickly hand her a long, thin white box with a red bow. Her expression brightens considerably as she shakes the box trying to guess the contents. Slipping the bow off the box, Sookie opens the lid to show an assortment of chocolates that I'd purchased at the florist. She gasps in delight as she picks a chocolate from the box to sample. I watch as her perfectly plump lips wrap around the chocolate square, and then her lips pull back so her tiny teeth can bite through the dark outer shell. Sookie moans in delight as her eyes roll back in her head. My body reacts instantly to her innocent actions. My cock thickens and hardens as she pops the remaining treat into her mouth. Never in my existence have I been jealous of a piece of candy. There is a small dot of white cream on her lower lip. Part of me wants to wipe it off with my thumb so I can then offer my thumb to her to suck on. But she beats me to it; she snakes her tongue out to slide along her lower lip before sucking on it to get all the goodness. I groan involuntarily as I'm assailed with images of Sookie on her knees sucking my cock until I explode with pleasure. She'll suck me dry, moaning with pleasure as she swallows everything I give her. When she's finished, she will lick the excess from her lips just like she licked off the cream filling of her chocolate. Sookie stares at me innocently as I struggle to get my body under control.

"You did that on purpose," I accuse as my erections throbs painfully against the zipper of my trousers.

"I didn't mean to," she offers lamely though a smile teases the corners of her mouth. She turns to walk up the steps and stops at the screen door. Sookie turns around with a mischievous grin and a lively sparkle in her eye. "I wonder how you'll react if I suck on a lollipop while around you."

Saucy minx! I vamp beside her, the flowers for her grandmother dangling from my hand as I lean down so our faces are scant millimeters apart. My breath whispers across her ear and neck as I reply. "Be my guest, but know if you do that, I will take it as an invitation. And I promise you, I am immensely more satisfying than any piece of candy." Sookie's pupils dilate as she sucks in a quick breath. My fangs ache with need and my cock bangs a staccato beat in my pants as I smell the flow of her arousal dampening her underwear. Fuck this meeting! I'd rather be fucking Sookie against the hood of my car, on the porch swing, in the grass . . . I don't care where but I need to be buried inside her and soon.

Our sexual bubble is shattered by an elderly voice calling us from inside the house. "Sookie where are your manners? Invite our guest inside. I'm sure he has better things to do than dawdle on our porch," the slightly reproachful voice drifts through the screen door. Right now, the only thing I want to be doing is standing in front of me in an innocent, yet alluring, green sundress with a wry grin on her face.

Sookie opens the screen door and motions for me to follow her. "You have to invite me in," I tell her.

"You mean that old wives' tale is true?"

I nod my head and she cocks hers to the side. "Can I uninvite you later?"

"You can but I wouldn't recommend it," I warn her.

She smiles suggestively. "I don't know. I wouldn't want you sneaking in my room late at night. What would my Gran say?"

I crowd against the magical barrier which puts my body immediately in front of hers. However, I cannot touch her; it is torture to have her so close yet have her inaccessible. "I'm sure you've snuck boys up to your room before," I tease her.

"Nope, never," she says emphatically. "Being a telepath, I could never let anyone get that close to me." Her words combined with her pure smell finally click in my brain. Sookie is a virgin. My inner beast as well as my inner caveman are for once in complete agreement with each other. They want to mark Sookie as mine in every way possible.

Sookie is oblivious to the savage state her innocent declaration has aroused in me. "Mr. Northman, won't you please come in?" I glide past her body, making sure my arm brushes across her breasts. In that single instant, I could feel her nipples puckered and straining against the material of her dress. Her sharp inhale of breath is music to my ears as I walk to the living room where Adele Stackhouse and her grandson Jason are waiting. Mrs. Stackhouse looks as if she is wearing her Sunday best while her grandson is going for what I can only assume is redneck chic, jeans with a faded Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt.

"Good evening Mrs. Stackhouse," I say congenially as I present the flowers to her. She rises slowly from her seat and seems pleasantly flustered by my gesture. She accepts the flowers with fluttering hands and a tentative smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you both finally. My name is Eric Northman." I nod my head towards the male in the room, but I've turned on the charm towards the elderly woman. If I can win her over, I'm sure her grandson will fall in line. Sookie did not follow me to the living room, but I hear water running in the kitchen. She must be getting a vase for the flowers. Based on the positive response from both Stackhouse women, it would seem Pam's advice earlier was sound. I shall have to get something to reward her. If only she was as easily satisfied with chocolate or flowers.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Northman. Thank you for the flowers. It has been many decades since a handsome young man brought me flowers," she says as she inhales deeply of the flowery fragrance. Sookie returns with a heavy crystal vase filled with water and a pair of scissors. Sookie places the items on the coffee table before taking the flowers from her grandmother. She gestures for her grandmother to sit back down before Sookie moves to sit beside her brother on the couch. She smacks his leg so he will move from his sprawled position. The siblings glare at each other before Jason sits upright.

"I am many things Mrs. Stackhouse, but young is not one of them," I say with a cordial smile as I sit in the overstuffed chair indicated.

"Oh my stars," the elder woman exclaims. "Forgive me for presuming. It's hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that you look so young but in fact are older than me. If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?"

"I am over a thousand years old," I tell her honestly.

"A thousand?" Her voice trails off as her eyes widen. "I think then it'd be best if you called me Adele, since you are the elder in this room." Several moments pass as the only sound in the room is the sound of Sookie snipping the ends of the flowers before she places them in the vase. Adele breaks the silence by leaning forward in her chair, excitement rolling off of her. "I'd love to hear about history from your perspective! Where were you doing the War of Northern Aggression?"

Sookie snorts from her place on the couch and her brother rolls his eyes. Adele sends her grandchildren a withering look before turning back to me, waiting eagerly for my response.

"I was in Europe until the beginning of the twentieth century, so I have no first-hand knowledge of that particular event in history." The woman opens her mouth to pepper me with more questions and I hold up my hand to stop her. "I will be more than happy to discuss my experiences with you some other evening, but I really want to discuss the reason for my visit."

The happy expression is erased from her face to be replaced by a dour one. Jason Stackhouse must take that as his cue to be the "man" of the family. "What bizness exactly do you have with my family?" He rises from his seat to walk towards me, though he stops short. His chest puffs out, his arms cross over top of it, and he glares menacingly at me. I don't know whether to admire his bravery or scoff at his foolishness; it's a mixture of both I think. Sookie however is clearly on the side that scoffs at his foolishness. She rolls her eyes and tells her brother to hush up.

"Your family member, Hadley, has become involved with the vampire in charge of Louisiana, who happens to be my boss. I have been asked by my superior to place your family under my protection," I simply say.

Sookie smiles warmly at me and gives me a discreet thumbs up sign. I've explained the situation in such a way that no light is shed on the Stackhouse family's otherness. Adele is not forced to disclose her affair with Fintan to her grandson, and I explain the gist of the situation with Hadley and Sophie-Anne without revealing things that would be considered "vampire business". I had learned from Sookie's overreaction to the word "pet", so I have refrained from using it to start. Unfortunately, I will have to explain the word to the family so they will not panic when they see it in the contracts from Cataliades.

"Are we in danger?" Adele looks alarmed after my brief explanation, and I shake my head no.

"There is no immediate danger to your family. It is merely a precaution to make certain that you are kept safe. Unfortunately, the world of vampires is often filled with danger."

Jason's lips have curled in disgust while I have spoken. "So let me get this straight. You're sayin' my cousin Hadley is a fuckin' fangbanger! And you want to offer us your protection? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Ain't no way in hell I'm lettin' you or any other fanger drink my blood!" The two Stackhouse women call his name in disapproval but he walks angrily out of the living room, slamming the screen door behind him as he leaves the farmhouse. His truck roars to life and the sound of squealing tires and gravel flying signify that he has left for the evening. I held myself in check while I let the male Stackhouse say his piece, but I really wanted to show him who was the true alpha in this situation.

Adele looks aghast towards the front door of her home. "Mr. Northman, I am so sorry for my grandson's reaction. He was not raised like that. Please accept my apologies. I know you are only trying to do what you've been asked to do."

I smile reassuringly at her even though I feel like crushing her grandson's skull between my hands because he is an idiot. "I did not expect this to be an entirely smooth discussion. My first meeting with your granddaughter was eye-opening to say the least."

Adele's eyes widen and she turns to stare at Sookie in horror. "Good heavens child! What did you do?"

I cannot help but laugh at Sookie's look of indecision. She narrows her eyes to glare at me and I continue chuckling at her discomfort. "I can assure you Adele, there are no hard feelings. Our issues that evening were as much my fault as hers." I think that's fairly accurate.

Adele continues to stare warily between her granddaughter and myself. She finally sighs in defeat or acceptance, I am not sure. "Whatever you need to do Mr. Northman, I will agree to. I'll talk to Jason, see if I can get him to calm down and see reason."

I nod my head gratefully. "Thank you Adele. There is a contract I wish to have signed between us, clearly outlining the expectations from both sides. Sookie has had opportunity to review the contract and I know she has some concerns about it. With your permission, I would like to take some time to discuss these issues with Sookie." Sookie raises an eyebrow at me, no doubt wondering who I am and what happened to the asshole she's used to dealing with.

Adele nods her head in understanding and rises from her seat. "Of course, I shall say my good-byes now. It's getting late for me and tonight has been a bit draining for me. Goodnight Mr. Northman and thank you again." I wished Adele a good-night and Sookie kisses her grandmother's cheek before the elder woman makes her way out of the room to the stairs. Sookie moves towards me and stares at the stairs until her grandmother is safely ensconced in her bedroom.

Sookie looks at me with a worried look on her face. "I'm sorry about my brother. I didn't think he'd be that much of an ass. I couldn't get a bead on his thoughts; when he wants me to stay out of his head he starts reciting baseball statistics."

"It's not your fault," I tell her reassuringly. He's not the first bigoted asshole I've met in my existence, and he will not be the last. "Do you feel up to talking more tonight?"

Sookie nods her head at me. "Let's get out of here though. I can use some fresh air."


	10. By the Light of the Silvery Moon

"You handled that better than I would have," Sookie says to break the silence of our walk. We have strolled along a path that leads through the woods by her house. The night is a warm one, but not humid as it so often is in Louisiana. There is a full moon tonight, which means the Weres are running wild. I sense some of them deep in the woods but they are keeping their distance. I do not know if they are the ones tasked with guarding the Stackhouses and I find that I do not really care about their presence at the moment. I am enchanted with the Fae princess by my side. How is it possible she seems more alluring tonight than every night before this? The moonlight enhances her beauty, making her seem other worldly. The mint green dress shimmers in the light, reminding me of tales of mermaids from my days at sea. If she had a wreath of flowers in her hair, I would think she had been the inspiration behind Spencer's _The Fairie Queene_. She turns to look at me when I remain silent after her statement. It's a good thing I don't need to breathe because her beauty would have stolen the very breath from my body. I want her; it is a nagging, aching need clawing at my gut. The need only grows when the breeze drifts over us, blowing her sweet scent all around me. It is like a narcotic and I am becoming an addict. Her scent is the most tantalizing I have ever encountered; it calls to me more than that of the full-blooded Fae I've had the good fortune of tasting. Sookie Stackhouse is quickly becoming my obsession. To be honest, it pisses me off. I am supposed to be the one in charge here, not her. It feels like she has me by the balls, emasculating me. I don't like it; and it is made even worse by the fact she seems completely oblivious to me.

"I am used to bigoted assholes," I tell her harshly.

She seems startled by my sudden bad mood. "I meant my Gran," she retorts softly. "As for Jason, I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not," she sighs. "Something's going on with him lately. He's not acting like his usual self. He's normally a pretty laid back guy. It's been the last week or so he's been wound tighter than a girdle around Maxine Fortenberry's waist at an all-you-can-eat buffet," she snorts out. I do not know this Fortenberry woman, but I imagine she is rather rotund.

"It does not matter," I answer truthfully. "I will continue to arrange for his protection even if he doesn't sign the contract."

"Then what's the point of the contract?"

I stop walking and Sookie stops beside me. "The contract will be filed with both my Queen and the Supernatural Council. Your family will be recognized as mine throughout the Supernatural community. It will give me the ability to protect you and defend you from all others. I will be able to enact retribution, including final death, if another were to harm any of you."

Sookie blanches. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"My world is not sunshine, unicorns, and rainbows Sookie. It is dark and violent. I believe in being ready for everything," I tell her honestly. We resume walking and come upon a cemetery in the middle of the woods. There is a rose-bush growing around the iron rails of the fence. Sookie snaps two of the blooms off the bush before crossing the threshold. Curious, I follow after her. She stops in front of two headstones: Corbett and Michelle Stackhouse, her parents. Bending gracefully at the knees, Sookie places a rose at the base of each headstone before standing. She backs up to stand beside me. We stare in silence at the two cement slabs. Sookie grabs my hand, linking her fingers through mine as the smell of saltwater taints the air.

"These are my parents," she chokes out. "I've always felt partly responsible for their deaths. Now I know it's true," she sobs.

Quickly I wrap my arms around her to try to comfort her, though I am the first to admit I have no idea what I am doing. "You have nothing to feel guilty about! If you wish to blame anyone for your parents deaths, then blame the Water Fae. Do not take the burden of their deaths on your shoulders. It is not your fault," I say forcefully.

Sookie's face had been pressed against my chest as she cried while I spoke. Now she pulls back to stare at me with guilt all over her lovely face. "But _I_am the reason they were out that night! They'd dropped Jason and me at Gran's so they could talk in private. I knew what they were talking about though. They had fought for weeks about me. Momma had dragged me to one doctor after the next all over the dang state trying to find out what was wrong with me. She'd been told I should be institutionalized, that I could become a danger to everyone. Daddy didn't believe her, said it was just a phase I'd grow out of. But when I told everyone about . . . my uncle . . . he changed his mind," she cries out in pain. Her tears fall freely down her face and I cannot stand to see them. It makes me feel . . . disturbingly human.

Wiping the tears from her face with my thumbs, I bring each digit to my lips to taste. She watches with fascination as I suck the salty sweetness from my thumbs. Gods, if her tears taste this good I cannot wait to taste all of her fluids!

"I thought y'all could only drink blood," she says in wonder as the tears end.

"What have I told you about talkin' nasty?"

With her hand still over my mouth, my words are jumbled and muffled, so I part my lips to lick the center of her palm. She yelps in surprise and pulls her hand back. However, that tiny taste of her skin makes me crave more and the erection I had been successfully fighting finally swells forward. Deciding to lighten the mood further, I wrap my arms around her back and pull her against me. "I seem to recall you enjoying my nasty talk. It makes your heart race, your skin heat with fire, and that fluid I'm so fond of seems to come rushing out," I leer at her. She shrieks indignantly and pinches my sides, however, I notice she does not correct me. In fact, she rests her head against my chest again and wraps her arms around my waist. I rest my head against hers and we stand in silence once again.

"Thank you," Sookie whispers softly.

"For what?" Having her in my arms feels right and I am reluctant to let her go.

"For trying to make me feel better about my parents. My head understands everything you said, but my heart is gonna take a while to catch up."

I nod in understanding. "I know what it is like to blame oneself for your parents' deaths." Sookie pulls back slightly to stare up at me curiously. Releasing an unnecessary breath, I tell her my deepest, darkest secret. "My parents were murdered in our home while I was off fucking the serving wench," I say with disgust. "Had I been the son my father wanted me to be, I would have been by his side helping him fight off our attackers."

"And you could have been killed too," Sookie says softly.

I nod again. "I know that, but as you said, it's not always our head that needs convincing."

"Did you ever find the ones responsible?"

"I did; they were from an enemy village. My men and I attacked their village; we showed no mercy," I say fiercely.

"Good," Sookie says savagely.

"Why Miss Stackhouse," I drawl out in surprise. "Who would have thought you to be so bloodthirsty? I love it!"

She blushes again and pushes against my chest so I release her. "I don't like violence," she tells me primly. "But I can understand doing everything in my power to protect or avenge the ones I love. I have so few of them in my life; I'd do anything for them," she says with a determined gleam in her eye.

Sookie begins walking towards the cemetery's exit and I follow behind her. Before I cross the threshold, a large flat slab catches my attention. The name on the headstone says William Thomas Compton with his year of death as 1865. I cannot help chuckling as I cross out of the graveyard.

"What's so funny?" Sookie is smiling at me as we resume our walk through the woods.

"I knew a William Compton around the turn of the century," I tell her. "I staked him in San Francisco because he and his maker were slaughtering humans and leaving the evidence for humans to find."

Her eyes widen. "He was a turned into a vampire? The story was that he never came home from the war, so his wife could only assume he died in the war. The Compton house is actually just up ahead. It's been around nearly as long as my family's home."

I growl low in my chest. Had that bastard been left alive I shudder to think of what could have happened to the charming woman beside me. We walk out of the woods to find an antebellum home that has seen better days. Oblivious to my internal musings, Sookie rambles about the house in front of us. "Old Jesse Compton was the last living Compton. As you can see, he didn't really keep up with the house. I think it now falls to the Bellefleur family since they are distantly related to the Compton's. Though I'm sure they don't want it. They have their own house to worry about."

"Speaking of houses," I begin and I see Sookie's back stiffen. "Sookie, look at me." She slowly spins on her toes and I see the angry set to her jaw. "If I claim you and your grandmother as my pets," she growls at my use of the word 'pet' and I ignore her outburst. "It will be expected that I provide for you and your grandmother."

"Gran and I have been getting along just fine by ourselves," she growls out through clenched teeth.

"Yes you have," I agree. "However, I am well-known in the Supernatural community. I have a reputation to uphold. If I do not provide for the two of you, then others will suspect that I am weak or that I am lax in my duties to the two of you. It will invite trouble from others." Not to mention Sophie-Anne would have my head if I continued to let her pet's family live barely above the poverty line.

Sookie's shoulders sag in defeat once she works through everything I've said. "So what exactly does that mean? Provide for us?"

I fight hard to contain the glee I feel at knowing she is acquiescing so quickly. I thought I would have to fight with her for weeks to get her to give in to everything I am insisting on. "First, I would like to restore your home. I know it has been in your family for centuries. I do not want to change it drastically; I merely want to make all the necessary repairs and improvements. "

She closes her eyes and puffs out a sharp breath. "What else?"

"Your vehicles," I say swiftly. "They need to be more reliable. You already know about the guards that will be in place for both of you."

"Is that everything?"

"For now."

"I hate this," she says wearily. "In less than two weeks, my entire life has been turned upside down. I thought I was a normal human girl, albeit with a disability…." My growl of disapproval cuts off the rest of her lament.

"YOU ARE NOT DISABLED! You are a beautiful woman with an extraordinary gift!"

Her sharp intake of breath halts the rest of my words. She looks at me with surprise on her face. "You think I'm beautiful?"

She stares at me with a look full of yearning on her face and I cannot fight her pull anymore. I close the distance between us, tipping her chin up with my thumb and forefinger. "How could I not?" However, I do not give her the chance to answer my softly murmured question before my lips descend on hers. I could not tell you the last time I had kissed someone romantically, but something about Sookie Stackhouse makes me want to take my time and savor her. Her soft, plump lips taste faintly of her tears and I lick along the seam trying to wash away her former sadness. She gasps when she feels my tongue against her lips, and I take advantage of the opportunity by sliding my tongue inside her mouth. My hands move up to her face, cradling her cheeks as I turn her head to change the angle of our kiss. This gives me more access her lips and mouth, which I eagerly take advantage of. She tastes simply divine and it makes me yearn for more. My tongue explores every recess of her mouth, savoring her taste as I learn what enjoys. In response to the kiss, Sookie's hands fist into the material of my sweater as she holds me close to her, molding her body against mine. She is by no means a passive participant in our kiss. In fact, she is the one to deepen our kiss by sucking on my lower lip before scraping her teeth against it. My fangs drop, startling Sookie. I expect her to pull away, but I should know by now that she never does the expected. Instead she slowly raises a hand up between us, hovering by my mouth as her eyes ask the unspoken question.

"Yes," I hiss out and then my eyes roll in the back of my head as she slowly strokes my fang. I shudder as she strokes the other fang, letting out a low growl as she rubs her finger back and forth against my sensitive tooth. She knicks the tip of her finger on the sharp end of my tooth, and my nostrils flare as I smell her blood for the first time. The bright crimson drop beads on the tip of her finger and we stare at each other, suspended for a moment in time. Without thinking about the consequences of her actions, Sookie slides her finger inside my mouth. I moan around her finger as I begin sucking on it to draw out more of the most delectable blood I've ever tasted. One drop and I know I will never be satisfied with drinking from anyone else. When I get nothing more from the wound, I lick it with my tongue, ensuring my saliva closes the wound. I wrap my hand around Sookie's wrist so I can pull her hand away from my mouth. When our hands are lowered, I crash my lips against hers, letting her feel the full force of my desire. I worry that I may overwhelm her with my need, but she seems to understand my urgency and even matches it.

The sudden sound of a wolf howling in the air forces us apart. With my fangs bared, my head snaps to the side to see a large grey and white wolf sitting at the edge of the woods. He cocks his head to the side and winks at me before sauntering off into the woods. Fucking Weres!

"What was that?" Sookie's voice is breathless as she questions me and her chest rises and falls rapidly as she pants for breath. Her lips are swollen and the sweet scent of her arousal fills the air. I want to push her down to the ground and bury myself between her thighs, lapping at her nectar. The need to claim her, to mark her as mine is overwhelming, but I need to reign in the beast. For now at least.

"Your guard dog was telling me I need to get you home," I say with frustration.

"But I don't have a dog."

"Yes you do," I say with a sigh as I take her arm to lead her back to her home. "His name is Dawson."


	11. Surprise Visit

Rising the next evening, I lie in my bed pondering the events from the night before. The conversation with the Stackhouse family went better than expected if I am being completely honest. I'd expected difficulties from all three members of the family, for one reason or another; I was surprised it was only one though; Sookie is proving to be difficult in other ways. I want her; there is no question about that. The question is for how long. I am bound to the Stackhouse family for the foreseeable future. I do not keep pets like others of my kind. Monogamy is something I'm not familiar with; I didn't practice it as a human, and I certainly haven't practiced it as a vampire. I cannot see Sookie willingly turning a blind eye when I decide to feed and fuck from another. Nor do I see her being the type to engage in a casual fling. Despite her flirtatious manner, she is still very much an innocent. While I have enjoyed deflowering more than my fair share of virgins without a care in the past, I cannot do that to Sookie. Oh I want nothing more than to introduce her body to the sensual arts; I've fantasized about her taste and the feel of her body wrapped around mine. And if it hadn't been for Dawson's timely interruption, I would have known exactly how true my fantasies were. But then where would we be now?

As much as I wish it otherwise, Sookie Stackhouse is off-limits.

Later at Fangtasia, my nightly meal is doing her best to suck me off; unfortunately her best is not cutting it. I have already fed from her and fucked her to her satisfaction but I am still in search of my release. Bored with fucking her mouth, I have pushed her head farther down on my dick, but her skills are lacking. She is sloppy; my dick feels like it is submerged in the Mississippi.

Pam walks in my office without knocking. The girl on her knees tries to scramble away, but I grip her hair tightly to keep her where she belongs. It's nothing Pam hasn't seen before and the odds are she will see it again.

She speaks in Old Norse. "Are you almost finished? Sookie is waiting for you in the bar."

My head whips to the side. "What is she doing here?"

Pam shrugs, "I didn't ask, but she seems upset. She tried to come back here to see you, but I parked her at your booth." She looks down at the girl on her knees and my still erect cock with a raised eyebrow. "Looks like you'll be awhile. I'll go keep Tinker Bell company." Pam gives me a knowing smirk and wink before vamping out of my office.

Not knowing why Sookie is here has me worried. We'd made no plans for this evening; in fact, she is supposed to be working. I need to get out there quickly, both because I need to find out what's wrong and because I worry about what my progeny will say. Using my hands, I hold my dinner's head still so I can fuck her face quickly. She's gagging slightly both from my speed and my length, but I don't care. Thoughts of Sookie and the building anticipation of seeing her in a few moments has me cumming. It's sad that simply thinking about Sookie's mouth and body has the ability to make me cum but nothing the pathetic blood bag did could get me off.

I glamour the human (whose name I never cared to learn) to go clean up in the bathroom and then use vamp speed to put myself back to rights. Checking my hair in the mirror as the last step I stride purposefully out to the main floor of the bar. Sookie is sitting exactly where Pam said she would be. She looks so forlorn and tiny sitting there. Her head rests between her hands and her eyes are scrunched closed. The expression on her face looks pained and her body is tense. Pam sits across from her in the booth with no expression on her face. What the hell is going on?

"Sookie," I call her name quietly once I am beside the table. She jumps as if I had shouted her name in her ear. I slide in the space beside her and she throws herself in my arms. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her to comfort her. Pam raises an eyebrow at my action.

"So Dawson was right? You are starting to fall for her," Pam says with a knowing smirk. Thankfully she is speaking in Old Norse and Sookie has no idea what is being said.

"Enough Pamela," I snarl in my native tongue. "What have you done to her?" Sookie is trembling in my arms. If my progeny upset Sookie, there will be consequences. Perhaps I will give her latest Parisian shopping trip to Goodwill.

"Nothing. She's been quiet except for pointing out a group of minors in the bar. You really should consider hiring her Eric. Think of all the problems we could avoid," Pam says before sliding out of the booth to resume her post by the door. She flashes her fangs at a man who tries to touch her and he shrinks back in fear. Pam smiles an evil smile of pure enjoyment as she continues her walk across the bar.

"Sookie, what's happened?" I focus all my attention on the small figure in my arms. I try to stifle my body's reaction to her nearness, but my cock has a mind of his own tonight.

"It's Jason," she sobs out. "They arrested him for murder this afternoon."

"What?" How could this have happened? Why wasn't I told immediately? Where were his guards? Someone may die tonight if I do not get answers soon! This discussion isn't appropriate for the middle of my bar, so I guide Sookie out of the booth and head down the hallway that leads to my office. I lean Sookie against the hallway wall, holding her shoulders in my hands. "Tell me what happened."

"After he left the house last night, he went to Merlotte's," Sookie begins after taking a deep breath. She pulls a tissue out of her pocket to wipe the tears from her face.

"He was drinkin' like usual, but was spoutin' off a lot of nonsense according to Lafayette and Tara. They said he ended up leavin' with Maudette. She's trashy," Sookie says with disdain. "She'll let anyone do anything to her, anytime, anyplace. I've always stayed outta her head because her thoughts were always so . . ." Sookie shivers in disgust. I wonder what my naïve ray of sunlight would do if she could hear my thoughts or even knew a fraction of the things I've done.

"Anyway, Maudette's naked body was found this mornin'. Her momma found her naked with strangulation marks around her neck. Sheriff Dearborn and Andy arrested Jason while he was at work; they've had him ever since. Sookie pitches forward and ends up with her face buried in my chest. I once again wrap my arms around her. The woman from my earlier meal walks out of the I snap my fangs down and growl in warning towards the pathetic fangbanger who scurries away. Sookie has stiffened in my arms and she pushes against me so I'll release her.

"I didn't realize you were busy this evening. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I shouldn't have come here," she says before walking quickly down the hallway and pushes her way through the bar. What the hell is that about? I vamp through the bar and grab Sookie's arm as she stomps across the parking lot.

"What are you talking about? You absolutely should have come here if your family is in trouble! Why haven't the guards notified me there is a problem?"

"Because I wanted to tell you myself! Because I wanted to see you and have you tell me everything's gonna be alright! I wanted you to hold me again; I wanted to feel safe like I did last night in your arms! But that was just stupid on my part," she says with disgust. "Go back inside; go let your fans worship you. I won't take up anymore of your precious time. I'm sure you have better things to do than worry about me and my family!" Sookie stomps off and climbs up in the cab of a large diesel pickup truck, one I recognize as belonging to Tray Dawson. He sits behind the wheel staring through the windshield at me. Sookie and Dawson exchange a few words before Dawson slips out of the truck to come speak with me.

"What happened?" I demand answers and I'm not going to get them from the overwrought woman in the truck. Her behavior still baffles me. Perhaps it is due to the stress from her brother's situation.

"Exactly as she told you," Dawson tells me in his matter-of-fact way. "From what I can tell you, the police in Bon Temps are a fucking joke. They're discussing the case in Merlotte's for everyone to hear," he says with contempt. "The detective on the police force seems to have a hard-on for Stackhouse; he thinks he's the only one who could've done it. Videos were recovered from the dead girl's house showing her having sex with different men, vamps and Weres included. The girl liked it rough. Jason was the last video recorded; it's from the night she died. I called Johnson, the pack lawyer, to represent Stackhouse. I figured you'll probably get one of them fancy lawyers to represent him, but I thought you would want someone there to keep him from saying something he shouldn't. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed," Dawson finishes wryly.

"You're right; he probably would have confessed even if he didn't do it," I say in disgust. My eyes flick to Sookie who is sitting in the truck with her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to comfort herself. I want to be the one to comfort her, but something has spooked her tonight. It seems I take two steps forward with her and five steps back. Sighing, I tell Dawson to take Sookie home; she needs rest and I have a murderer to find.

Dawson starts to walk back to his truck, but then stops. He turns sideways to look between me and Sookie. "You know, she held it together all day. She was workin' at the bar when she got the news about her brother. I don't know how she managed to handle hearin' all the thoughts from those assholes in that town thinkin' her brother did it, but somehow she did. Merlotte's the one that told her to leave, that she didn't need to be there anymore." Dawson crosses the space between us quickly, so he is standing near me again. "She was fine until she came outta your bar. So what the hell did you say to her?" Dawson's tone has become menacing and his hands begin flexing as if he is preparing for a fight. Tonight is not the night to test my patience.

"I said nothing," I say as I feel my fangs aching with the need to tear something apart. "Remember who you work for Dawson. You will not question me again! The girl and her family are mine to do with as I see fit," I say coldly.

"My job is to protect Sookie Stackhouse," he tells me firmly. "Even from you if I have to." His nostrils flare as the wind shifts and he picks up an unidentified scent. "You smell like cheap perfume and booze. Please tell me Sookie didn't find you with your nightly meal," he says with disgust.

"Of course not," I snap. "She stayed in the bar until I joined her. Then we moved our conversation to the hallway outside my office."

If possible, Dawson's expression becomes more disgusted. "In your bar where she can hear every person's thoughts and will know exactly what you were doing while she was forced to wait? I never pegged you as an idiot Northman." He walks quickly to his truck and climbs in. The engine starts shortly after he's settled and they drive away while I stand as still as a statue in the parking lot.

I've killed men for far less than what Dawson said to me, and I wanted to lash out at him for his insubordination. But I cannot, especially when he's right. Sookie may not have seen anything with her own eyes, but her ability might as well have made her a spectator with a ringside seat. In my haste to get to Sookie, I neglected to glamour our encounter from the fangbanger's mind.

Pam approaches me in the parking lot. I have stood there long after Dawson's taillights faded from my sight. "Eric?"

"Call Cataliades," I say shortly. "Tell him I need the best defense attorney in the state for Jason Stackhouse. Do not tell the Queen; I need more information before I update her. I am going to Bon Temps."

"For what it's worth," my progeny says softly, "I didn't think about what Sookie would hear about you from the vermin. It is my fault Master," she says with her head lowered respectfully.

"Pam, the only one I can blame is myself," I admit honestly before taking flight. It's true; I've never outlined with Sookie what her role is to be in all of this. Given our encounters, including last night, I can see why she is upset. Humans put undo importance on commitment and monogamy. Sookie may not be entirely human, but she was raised that way. And she will see my fucking another woman as some type of betrayal. This cements that Sookie and I can be nothing more than business associates.

It's not what I want, but it is what needs to be done.

My flight takes me to the Bon Temps Police Department. There are only two cars in the parking lot. Good, it will make what I am about to do much easier. I walk in the harshly lit lobby of the building. My eyes are constantly scanning for video cameras, but I see none. It will make it easier to cover my tracks this way. Modern surveillance has been a blessing and much appreciated advancement when it comes to protecting me and my interests, but it's been a bitch when I find myself needing to stay incognito. It used to be you could take the video tape that everything was recorded on, but the digital age has made everything infinitely more complicated. Fortunately, I have a technology wunderkind in my back pocket when I am in need of such expertise.

There is no one in the reception area, only a sign telling me to ring the bell for assistance. I lean against the counter and press my finger against the metal bell. After a minute, a gangly Caucasian male in the beige and brown uniform of the police department appears.

"Can I help you?" His voice has the deep Southern accent one expects from this area, but it is even more garbled because of the speech impediment he works to cover.

It is easy to catch him in the hold of my glamour. He confirms that he and his partner are the only two in the building; no inmates are in the cells. When I ask about Jason Stackhouse, the deputy tells me the sheriff was forced to let him go earlier because Stackhouse's lawyer showed up. They couldn't charge Jason with anything because the video of Jason and the victim shows him leaving her house and she was still very much alive. I have the deputy take me to where all the evidence for the case is. We find the deputy's partner there and I glamour her as well. They will not remember my visit, and they are suddenly very hungry. The two officers leave the building with instructions not to return for two hours.

Speed reading through the notes on the case, I learn the victim is named Maudette Pickens, a single white female, mid-twenties, that was found inside her home. There was no sign of a struggle which indicates the woman knew her attacker. She had been killed by strangulation; the pictures of the bruising on her neck indicate a belt or rope of some kind was used. Her body was covered in bruises and there were several bite marks on her neck, thighs, and breasts. Based on the pictures of those, they are older, having been given several days earlier. The dead girl was a fangbanger; I will need to ask Pam if she remembers seeing this girl with any of the vampires in the bar. This girl had offered herself to me and I had found her too pathetic for my attentions. The evidence indicates that a human was the one to kill her, but I wonder if a vampire could have done it. Many may think a vampire will drain a person to kill them; while that may be true for younger vampires, it is not necessarily true for older vampires. We have more control; we are not always ruled by our bloodlust. And I have often killed in a way similar to that of a human; it has helped deflect attention from vampires.

Dawson wasn't kidding about the victim's video collection. There are at least two dozen videotapes of amateur porn. I select the most recent tape of the dead woman and Jason Stackhouse. The video begins with Stackhouse and the victim on the sofa. She is the aggressor; pushing him down on the cushions as she kisses her way down his body. The victim disappears from the frame; given the noises and Stackhouse's reaction, she is performing fellatio. I fast forward through the tape until I see the woman move off Stackhouse's dick and go to the center of the room. There is something dangling from the ceiling. She puts her hands up on the item and spreads her legs. Stackhouse rises from the couch and positions himself behind the victim. As he fucks her, she begs for it harder and faster. She wants him to be rough with her; she needs the violence to get off. You can tell it disgusts Stackhouse to do as she asks. This man isn't a killer; he cannot stomach violence and isn't able to give her what she wants. Despite his disdain for what she asks of him, Stackhouse finds his release. He leaves quickly afterwards. The woman eventually walks to the video camera and turns it off.

Glancing at the time, I see I have an hour before the two deputies return to the building. I rewind the tape and eject it from the video player, returning it to where I found it. The police have separated the tapes in two groups: human and vampire. There are only three tapes in the vampire pile. The tapes in the human pile have been labeled with the names of the men that were her featured partner on the tape. The tapes in the vampire pile have not been labeled. Grabbing a pad of paper, I hurriedly jot down the human names; it's not much, but it is something to go on. I need to know how the vampires are featured on the remaining films. The first tape is of the victim and Liam, a vampire in my area that I've had problems with before for getting too rough with humans. The second tape is also of Liam, though his nest mate Diane is also a key player on the video. But it is the third video that I am most curious about. Pam and Long Shadow have some explaining to do.


	12. Never a Dull Moment

"Do you want to tell me how Jason Stackhouse managed to be accused of murder?" I'd landed in front of Alcide Herveaux's truck, startling him from his reclined position of watching the small home a few feet away. We are not at Stackhouse's home, which I know is in an isolated, wooded area near a pond. I do not know why we are here, though if the sounds of sex are any indication, I would be willing to bet that Stackhouse found a willing female to comfort him after his harrowing jailhouse experience.

"He didn't do it," Herveaux mumbles as he gestures for me to enter his vehicle so we are less conspicuous. Though no one is paying attention to us; with the exception of Stackhouse and the moaning woman with him, all the humans in the vicinity are asleep. It is late in the evening for them; I'm sure most of them will need to work in the morning.

"I know he didn't do it. My question is why weren't you or one of the others keeping an eye on him last night."

"Did you forget last night was the full moon? I waited as long as I could, but I couldn't fight the need to shift indefinitely. I saw him leave the girl's place and head home. He was asleep when I ran off. Why didn't you arrange others to watch him?" Herveaux is being defensive which makes him attack others in response to being questioned. Most people will do this to deflect blame from themselves. However in this case he is correct; I should have arranged for other guards for the Stackhouses the previous evening. As with Sookie's telepathy, it slipped my mind. I am not accustomed to having to take so many things under consideration when I make plans. This situation is mentally taxing. I believe I feel a headache coming on for the first time in a millennium.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes and ask the Were, "How are you fighting the shift now?" It's still a full moon, and his eyes have that yellow glow to them.

"It ain't easy," he says in a voice that sounds less than human and more like an animal's growl. His body shakes slightly as he fights for control. As much as I hate to say it, I admire Herveaux in this instant for his strength, sense of honor, and determination.

"Go," I command. "They have finished for now. I will see that Stackhouse returns to the family home. It will be for the best if he says there until this murder is solved."

Alcide grunts and climbs out of his truck. He begins to remove his clothing so he can shift. "How are you going to manage that one? Jason Stackhouse doesn't seem the type to take suggestions from a vamp."

"Who said I was giving him an option?" Alcide has completed his shift and stands beside the vehicle as a large black wolf with green eyes and white markings down his torso and around his paws. He is larger than the majority of wolves I've seen, a sign that he is meant to be an Alpha. Interesting since I know Alcide, like Dawson, prefers to run solo instead of with a pack. "Run along dog; I have work to do. I'm sure there are some trees that need to be marked and rabbits to be chased," I say with a humorous smirk. If it were possible, I do believe Alcide Herveaux would be giving me the finger right about now, but all he can do is bare his fangs at me. I flash him my own in return. Instead of taking the bait, he turns and runs into the woods nearby.

With a slight chuckle, I walk the necessary steps to bring me to the door where Jason Stackhouse is. How fortunate for me that I have been inside this home before and do not require an invitation. Humans have no sense of self-preservation; if they did, than the woman who lives here should have rescinded my invitation the moment I'd left her house. Instead, she had fallen into a deep slumber because of how thoroughly used her body had been. So it is a rather simple matter for me to remove the screen from the open living room window and climb inside. I creep quietly through the halls looking for Stackhouse. I find him in the kitchen. The refrigerator door is open; his left arm rests on top of the door, his right holds a carton up to his mouth. The light from the refrigerator illuminates his naked body. Looking at him critically, I can see what the fuss is about; his body is sculpted and tan, his face is attractive, and despite the cold from the refrigerator, he still seems well-endowed. Too bad he has a five-cent head.

"One would think you would be in the safety of your home or that of your grandmother's after your experience today." My voice startles Jason and he drops the carton he had drunk from. The orange liquid spills out around his feet. He gapes at me with his mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

"Are you really so stupid that you think your charming attitude and good looks will always get you out of trouble? Have you even thought of the possibility that the dead woman was killed because of her association with you? Now you are potentially endangering another woman, not to mention your blatant disregard for your family's worry about you." My voice is an angry hiss as I make my way further into the room. Stackhouse tries to scramble away from me, but the only place for him to go is in the corner.

"How'd ya get in here? I thought vampers couldn't enter a home without an invitation." I say nothing, waiting to see if he will connect the dots or if he will need to be guided along like a tourist at the White House.

"Sonofabitch!" Jason finally exclaims after a few tense minutes. It's as if I can see the light bulb turning on inside his head. "You're the vamp that bit Dawn's thigh! Were you with Maudette too? She showed me a video of her with some bald, tattooed freak . . ." His voice trails off in horror and he holds his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "No offense," he offers lamely.

"None taken. Get your clothes. We are leaving. Now."

"But," my fangs snapping down and the low growl are enough to shut him up. He walks around me carefully before scurrying down the hallway to the bedroom. I vamp to the bedroom door to make sure he doesn't try to wake his fuck buddy so she will rescind my invitation to her home. However, the intelligence-challenged Stackhouse has taken my words to heart. He's thrown on his jeans, stepped into his construction boots, and has slipped his t-shirt over his head. Rather than tie his boots, he's pulled the laces tight and then tucked them inside so he won't trip. He walks to the bedroom door but stops. His gaze returns to the woman in bed before looking at me.

"Shouldn't I leave her a note?"

My eyebrow rises in silent question. "I'm sure you aren't the first man to leave while she sleeps. I doubt you'll be the last."

Rather than go home, Jason opts to go to his grandmother's house. Of course, his decision may have been influenced by the sullen, nearly seven-foot tall vampire sitting in his passenger seat. The ride is a silent one. Stackhouse keeps looking at me from the corner of his eye, trying to be covert and failing miserably. He fidgets and shifts in his seat nervously while driving the truck.

"If there is something you wish to know, ask," I tell Stackhouse after he has opened and closed his mouth for the fourth time without uttering a word. He looks sheepish as he makes the turn on Hummingbird Lane. The truck pitches and rocks unsteadily as we drive down the road to his family's ancestral home. I make note to have the driveway taken care of first. My Corvette will not survive this path, and I imagine it is not comfortable for Adele to traverse. Stackhouse stops in front of the house and cuts the engine.

"Why you doin' this? I know what you said the other night, but this goes above and beyond lookin' out for Hadley's family. Why do you care what happens to me?"

"I don't care what happens to you," I say shortly and Jason shrinks back even further from me. "But your grandmother and sister care for you very much. It is my job to protect the three of you, and I value my existence far too much to let a dim-witted redneck that can't keep his dick in his pants be the reason my thousand years on this planet ends. Now get in the house. Stay out of trouble. You will sign the contract without argument when it is brought to you. Are we clear?" Stackhouse nods his head rapidly before climbing out. He jogs quickly up the porch steps and slips inside the door. I frown as I realize that he didn't need a key to enter the home. There is a killer on the loose and these women leave their home open for anyone to stroll through. I climb out of the truck and angrily slam the door shut. I'm about to rouse the occupants of the home with a lecture on basic safety when the stench of wet dog assaults my nostrils. Turning around, I find Dawson standing a few feet away from me.

"Before you get a full head of steam, you should know that Mrs. Stackhouse insisted on leaving the door unlocked if I needed a bathroom or got hungry," Dawson says with an edge to his voice. His arms are crossed over his chest, his legs braced for a fight. With the way tonight has gone, I am in the mood to release some aggression. But not on Dawson; with the way I'm feeling, he wouldn't survive the confrontation. And I can't fault him for doing his job, even if he should have reported the issue with Stackhouse immediately. I understand why he didn't; I too find it difficult to deny Sookie anything she wants.

"Did she get home safely?" My eyes drift up to the second level, searching for her room. It did not take long for the male Stackhouse to fall asleep; I can hear three heartbeats at their resting rate inside the house. It would be so easy for me to sneak in the house and check on Sookie. I imagine that when asleep, she looks like Sleeping Beauty. How I wish I could be the prince that could rouse her from her sleep with a kiss. Though I doubt either of us could settle for a mere kiss with the bed nearby. Our chemistry together is explosive, but given her reaction earlier, I doubt she would welcome such an advance from me.

"There were no issues with the drive. She was quiet until we got here. Then she wished me a good night before bounding into the house like a scared rabbit." Dawson's stance shifts to a more relaxed one, as he senses the hostility leaving me. He walks closer, resting his arms on the hood of Stackhouse's truck. "Did you learn anything about the investigation of the murdered girl?"

"The police are clueless; they think it's either a vampire or Jason Stackhouse," I admit with disgust. "I'm going to put Mustapha on it. As for the Stackhouse's, I want guards 24/7. You will be in charge; whatever you need, you will have it. I do not want there to be any instances like this in the future."

Dawson nods in understanding and I continue. "Since Herveaux's company will be doing an extensive amount of work here, I want him to hire the male Stackhouse as part of his crew. Having Stackhouse close by will keep him out of trouble, make it easier to keep an eye on him, and he'll be around more which I'm sure will make Adele especially happy."

"Herveaux isn't going to like you telling him to hire Stackhouse," Dawson chuckles.

I smirk in return. "I'm not telling him; you are." Dawson's smile disappears. As he opens his mouth to respond, I take off in the night sky. His muttered "asshole" is the best thing I've heard all night.

My flight takes me to Fangtasia which is closed for the evening. I slip in through the employees' entrance and walk silently to my office. The door hits the wall with a bang and Pam whirls around with her fangs down. She is once again using my office as her personal changing room even though she has her own office. Her fangs retract when she sees me lounging against the door frame. Pam slips her pink velvet track jacket over her shoulders and zips it partly over her black lace bra. The jacket matches the pink velvet pants she wears with the word 'Juicy' across her rear.

"Jesus Christ Eric, you scared the shit out of me," Pam says drolly as she begins pulling the pins from her hair. My child abhors the campy costumes we are required to wear in the bar. She prefers pastels, pink especially, and soft, luxurious fabrics that feel smooth against her skin. Pulling the last pin from her hair, she turns to look at me. "Is everything alright?"

"Do you want to tell me why there is video of you and Long Shadow fucking the murdered girl?" Pam stares at me with wide eyes and an open mouth; she clearly did not know she was being taped. "Really Pamela, I thought you had better taste than that. I could maybe understand the girl, but Long Shadow?" I cluck my tongue in disapproval. Long Shadow may be a partner in the bar, but I do not trust him, nor do I like him. He is a necessary evil. "Were you really that desperate? I'd rather you fuck the Were than Long Shadow."

"What the fuck do you mean there is video?" Pam's fangs snap down in disapproval and I feel her rage building.

"I've never known you to be so careless Pam. There is nothing I can do about the video now; it's catalogued as evidence in the murder investigation." That's not entirely true; I've already removed the tape from the police station and altered the evidence forms accordingly. However, I am going to let Pam stew for a bit. She needs to be reminded not to be so careless with her feed and fucks.

"Fuck," Pam mutters angrily as her fangs snap back in place. I stare at her expectantly and she rolls her eyes while crossing her arms. "Please," she drawls out condescendingly. "Like you haven't fucked someone you shouldn't. I was bored, she was willing. I didn't do anything with Long Shadow; he repulses me. We both fucked the girl. He thought he could please her better than I could, simply because he has a dick. He was wrong," she says smugly. "Why do you care so much that I fucked her?"

"The police think a vampire killed her."

"How did she die?"

"Strangulation."

"Idiots," she mutters. "A vampire would have used other means and they wouldn't have left the body for anyone to find. That's Vampire Survival 101."

"The police in Bon Temps do not strike me as the most logical beings on the planet. That is why I want Mustapha looking into this matter."

"I will call him immediately," Pam says as she picks up my office phone.

"Good." I settle at my desk, opening my email to see if there are any new issues I need to deal with before going to ground. Buried in the slew of non-important emails from the vampires in my area as well as the other sheriffs in the state is an email from the bar's accountant. Scanning the contents of the brief email, I feel my fury rising again.

Someone must have a death wish if they think they can steal $60,000 from me.


End file.
